Twist of Fate
by Paxella
Summary: [Part 1 of To Be With You] Russell and Timmy are married and must suddenly deal with their love/hate relationship and admit to the sexual tension they have developed for one another over their years together. An ongoing post-series continuation.
1. Wedding Night

_Fate will twist the both of you._

"Ah!" Timmy awoke with a start. He was sweating and breathing heavily, but as he began to look around at his surroundings - his own familiar apartment - he eased down.

"It was just a dream," he concluding with a heavy sigh. Then he paused to think and his face froze. "Wait..."

His mind flashed back to the previous day - the Binghams had a brand new baby and had announced another on the way...Adam and Jennifer had finally bitten the bullet and gotten married...he and Russell had-

"Oh, my god!"

No more sleep tonight. Timmy jumped out of bed and shook himself off like a wet dog, trying to shake off the thought of being married to the likes of Russell-freaking-Dunbar.

"Work visa," he muttered. He had to keep his priorities straight. This was an arrangement to keep him in the country. There was no subtext here. There was no real marriage. It would be over soon. "Green card marriage...which of course is illegal. I'm a law breaker. I'm a criminal and I'm married to Russell Dunbar, oh my god what in the name of all that's holy have I done?"

...What would he tell his parents? His sister who had once dated the little troll? His family would surely disown him. Or maybe not - Russell had certainly made an impression on his parents and they seemed thrilled with his pithy attempts at appreciating Indian culture.

And then it hit him - Russell had done this for him. To keep him here. He didn't want to lose him.

Maybe he didn't want to lose Russell, either.

No no no, wait wait wait, what was happening...?!

Timmy walked swiftly to his bedroom door and, being still closed, bashed his head gently against it. He tried to remember what had happened after the - ugh - wedding.

Let's see, hospital, baby, wedding, everybody happy, chatting and congratulating, and then he and Russell had left together...

* * *

The two men reached the hospital lobby together and Russell chuckled.

"Well, Timir, I guess this is it..."

"What exactly is it, sir...?"

"I mean...you have to forgive me now. Look at what I did for you. Can you imagine a worse cock blocker?" He mimicked a woman: "Hey, Russell, you wanna get our jigglies on tonight, you stuuuuuud muffin, you?" He scoffed. "I'm supposed to say what, 'sorry I can't grace you with me Rusty nail, my HUSBAND asked me to pick up a few things on the way home...where I live with my HUSBAND?!' What woman's gonna jump in my bed with YOU already in it?!"

"Sir, we shan't be living together. And as for sharing a bed..." Timmy gazed down, rubbing his temple in aggravation. "Not even if the hottest woman in the world was betwixt us. Not for a million dollars. I can't think of a possible reason I'd ever-"

"You've been in my bed before!"

"Why, yes. How I've tried to forget. The night of translating intercourse dialogue between you and a woman who spoke no English was really the highlight of my professional career. Speaking of which, I really must get home as I have work in the morning..."

Timmy began to walk away, then turned back with a weak smile. "You know, the job I've recently attained in which my boss does not force me to degrade myself in every possible way imaginable. The one who doesn't try to justify forgoing the boundaries of personal autonomy by having a tracking chip implanted in me..."

"Hey, I explained that."

"There's no justifiable explanation, sir."

"I was scared!"

"Of what?! Of me possibly having any sort of life that doesn't revolve around your petty requests?"

"Of losing you!" For a moment Russell's face went serious. He looked around to see that the lobby was abandoned before he spoke. "I was scared that...that one of these times when I fucked up you'd walk away from..." Russell motioned to himself. "Walk away from this jackass and..."

Russell turned, brushing Timmy away with his hand. "Never mind, you already did. I get the score, buddy. After everything I did for you. Now I've got a half-man wheeling around leaving coffee on floors and I'm married to an ingrate turncoat, but whatever, it's a thing."

Timmy sucked in a lip. Every time Russell seemed to show a bit of character, he dropped it like a hot potato. How could Timmy tell what was sincere? At what point should he call him out?

"Sir, with all due respect...scratch that, with a mere sliver of respect, I must ask you, why do you care? I know we've been through a lot together but...beyond this marriage thing...ugh...why should I bother? What does this friendship offer either of us?"

Russell spun around. "So you admit we're friends!"

Timmy rolled his eyes, "Yes, we're friends. I hate to admit it but it's been long enough now under your torment that if I'm still even speaking to you, I suppose there's a reason. But you don't...you don't need me."

"Do you *know* me? I'm not sure I'd still be alive if not for you."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose, but... Again, a friendship is supposed to go two ways, what have you ever done for me?"

Russell stamped his feet and his arms flailed dramatically: "I MARRIED YOU!"

At this Timmy had to admit defeat. He nodded and his voice softened. "Thank you...yes, thank you for that. I mean, it's your fault I was ever in a position of needing to be married, but thanks, I suppose."

The men both went silent. They stood there, several feet apart, staring awkwardly at the ground, until two figures passed by. It was Adam and Jennifer.

"Hey, guys!" Adam was chipper and carried his usual grin. "Guess what we're about to go do?"

Russell responded, "Uhmmm...you're gonna go work on the suicide pact because you just realized the horrible mistake you've made getting married?"

Jen shook her head is disdain. "Take a look in the mirror, we're not the only couple who got married tonight." She looked to Timmy with a grin. "Good luck on the suicide!"

Timmy smiled back with a nod.

Adam gave a loud scoff. "HA! No. You guys." He sniggered and spoke softly, bashfully. "We're off to consummate the marriage!"

Russell chimed in with, "Oh, barf." Then to Jen, "Not you, the bozo. I'll consummate with you later tonight in my dreams."

Jen motioned to Timmy. "Thanks for the offer but it looks like you already have somebody to consummate with."

Adam's face went blank. "Wait...waaaait. No, not...not really, right...?"

"I'll explain later." Jennifer grabbed Adam by the hand and led him out the door.

Russell rose an eyebrow in Timmy's direction. "Well, Tim, about the consumma-"

Timmy turned to walk briskly away.

"Wait! Just a drink. I want to keep talking. I have more I need to say. Please."

Timmy rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh.

"Okay. One drink."

* * *

The diner was sparse this evening.

"And that's why I don't date women with wooden legs anymore."

Russell was sipping scotch while Timmy leaned his chin on his hand, gazing blankly into nowhere.

"Did I lose you somewhere? See, what happened was-"

"I got it."

"Well, you don't seem very engaged." Russell snickered. "We kind of skipped that part." No reaction. "Get it? Engaged, because-"

Timmy perked, "Sir, I thought that's what we came here to discuss. Not your sexcapades with artificial limbs but the fact that we are now, as Jeff so eloquently put it...legally gay."

Russell downed the rest of his scotch. "Yeah, about that."

"I mean, it's insane, really...yes, the marriage has taken place, but if I'm actually going to stay in the country there's endless paperwork to file, and even then there's no guarantee. You do realize that we'll be questioned to ensure the marriage isn't a green card scam? You have to know things about me."

"I know tons about you!"

"Like what?"

"Like...uhm..." Russell rapidly searched the recesses of his mind for any boxes marked 'information about Timmy' and upon coming up blank retorted, "I know that you're super uptight, dude, it's your wedding night, live a little!"

Timmy furrowed his brow as he looked at the wine in front of him. Mmm, diner wine. Top notch stuff. He considered downing his as well but waited. It was his third glass, after all.

Upon realizing this, he noticed that Russell was getting the slightest bit tipsy. They'd been drinking now for an hour and it was more than obvious that Russell didn't want to get to the matter at hand. But his face turned thoughtful now and he fingered his glass as he spoke.

"Y'know, Timmy, I don't have a lot of people in my life."

"Sir, your life is nothing but a revolving door of people, mostly women young enough to be your love child."

"See, that's just it, it's a revolving door. And most people they get inside and they're like nope, nuh-uh, not this loser..."

"After the sex, of course."

"Of course. So, like, who do I have?"

"The Binghams and the Rhodes seem fairly cemented to you."

"Yeah, but they don't...like me. I think deep down they probably despise me. But you like me-"

"I despise you, sir."

Russell's look soured. "Think I need another scotch."

"Maybe you've had enough."

"Come on, all I've had are a couple of scotches...and the beer at the hospital...and before I got to the hospital I had a couple of-"

"Sir, you've had more than enough."

"That's the kind of back talk that I could fire you for, Timmy!"

"You can't fire me, I no longer work for you."

Their faces both dropped and there was a stiff silence. Finally, Timmy shoved his wine across the table and Russell proceeded to drink it.

With his lips to the wine glass he muttered something.

Timmy squinted, not sure he had heard correctly. "I'm sorry, what...?"

"I like you."

Timmy placed his hands down flat on the table, focusing on each finger as he considered his next move. But before he could speak, Russell continued.

"I like you a lot. I mean, probably more than I've ever liked anybody ever, I mean...you're...you're awesome, man."

"And you're drunk."

"Doesn't make it not true." Russell's eyes met with Timmy's. "If you didn't like me, you wouldn't be here."

"What are you trying to say exactly, sir?"

"Listen, you just said I'm not your boss anymore. Hell, I'm your husband, you don't have to call me sir."

"Sir-" Timmy spoke the word harshly. "If you have something to say, I wish you'd get on with it, I'm really quite tired and must be getting home." He was also getting lightheaded; he didn't drink to much excess and what he had drank was catching up with him.

The blond man child's demeanor was acting more drunk by the second; Russell's tolerance was infinitely higher than Timmy's and he'd been chain drinking scotch for the better part of this talk about nothing.

"I just want you to know that I did this to help you...because I lo- like you. You're my-my best friend. I want you. I mean, to be my friend. Man, who's in charge of the spin control in this place? How many walls are there?"

"Perhaps it's time to go home. Can you find your way home?"

"Your home?"

"No-"

"Our home?"

"No, yours. You know, where you live. By yourself. Without me."

Russell frowned and finished the wine in front of him. "Come with me?"

Timmy sighed. "Fine, but then I really must be going."

* * *

Russell was leaning heavily against Timmy by the time they reached the front door, half asleep and drunk.

"Key's in my pocket..."

Timmy hesitated slightly before reaching into Russell's front pocket. His hand tried deftly to avoid a certain bodily feature, but failed. As his hand brushed up against Russell's oddly erect member, he winced and quickly pulled out the keys.

Russell laughed sloppily. "Hey whoa Tim, how about you wine and dine me a little first, huh? At least wait until we're inside. Unless you're kinky like that, I can dig it."

Timmy ignored the drunken banter and opened the door. This wasn't the first time he had dealt with this kind of behavior, and he followed the usual beats. He walked Russell far enough to plop him flat down on the sofa and started for the door.

"Waaaait, Timmy!"

"Yes?"

"Hug."

"...What?"

"It's our wedding night," Russell slurred, standing shakily to his feet. "Can I at least get a hug?"

Timmy nodded in concession and walked back to Russell, who promptly wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Timmy reluctantly placed his arms around Russell's back. He winced when he heard Russell begin to mildly sob.

"I love you, man."

Timmy nodded and sighed. "Yes, sir, I know."

"No, no, you dunno, you have no idea."

Timmy, feeling it time to break the embrace, began to pull away, but found himself pulled closer to Russell.

And then lips were on his neck.

Russell was kissing Timmy's neck. The shock kept him there until Russell spoke again, this time surprisingly coherent and sincere: "I love you."

With that, Timmy broke hard from Russell and without another word, walked quickly out of the apartment.

As the door closed Russell fell to his knees and proceeded to a fetal position on the floor. "Damn it...I think I fucked up..."

Timmy was on the other side of the door, eyes wide, breath heavy. What had just happened? Certainly it was a drunken tirade. In days past he'd been mockingly hit on during Russell's stupors, but never like this. He touched the spot on his neck where he had been kissed and his head spun. Why was he not more disgusted with this situation? Why was this current feeling one of confused affection? Why was his body tingling? This was all wrong. They'd had romantic physical connections before - under the guise of mistaken identity. Tonight Mr. Dunbar was drunk, but undoubtedly knew who he was talking to. He had kissed his neck and said he loved him - there weren't many ways to interpret this.

"Coffee," Timmy muttered. This wasn't worth thinking about until they were both sober. He'd go home and take some sleeping pills and put it out of his mind until morning.

Inside the apartment, Russell cried himself to sleep on the floor.

* * *

Morning was not bringing much clarity. Timmy sat on the edge of his bed, sick to his stomach. He had been staring blankly at the floor for awhile now, and only broke his gaze upon hearing the phone on the nightstand ring. He grabbed it quickly and out of some guttural instinct spoke, "Mr. Dunbar, I think we should just-"

"Timir, is that you? Have you any idea what time it is?"

It was his new boss. He looked to the clock and panicked. He should have been to work two hours ago. Damn damn damn damn.

"I deeply apologize, I'll be there as soon as possible sir, I-"

"You've been a stellar assistant so far. I'll forgive one slip, but please don't let this happen again."

"Yes, sir."

As he pressed end call, he pondered the word "sir" and how strange it suddenly felt on his lips when not directed at his previous boss. Certainly he called anybody in a position of respect "sir," but the last few years it was addressed towards him innumerous times. Brushing the thought aside, he walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He placed his fingers gently to his neck and felt an odd familiar tingle. He sighed a shaky breath.

"Damn it, Russell."


	2. A Development

Russell awoke at noon to find himself on his apartment floor, dazed and trying to remember just exactly how he got there. As he stood, his head spun slightly. He usually held his liquor fairly well, but he'd been drinking over the course of yesterday...before he ever got to the hospital, never mind chain drinking with Timmy. Ohhhh...Timmy!

"Ohhhh, shit!" He was putting the pieces together. He'd married Timmy. He'd been drinking. What the hell had happened last night? He walked shakily into the bathroom and his eyes traced his reflection in the mirror. He hated his face this morning. He felt suddenly empty. He addressed his mirror image: "Damn it, Russell."

He'd done something stupid. Not marrying Timmy, that was probably the smartest, noblest thing he'd ever done. He couldn't comprehend life without his presence and if this is what it took to keep him here...but he knew he'd done something stupid.

And then it snapped. "Oh, god!" He looked very intently at his mirror self. "What the hell did you do?! Were you...coming on to him?! You..." He gasped at himself, incredulous. "You kissed a dude on the neck! You...oh my god, you said you loved him! What the fuck, Russell?! LADIES! WE LIKE LADIES! Timmy's not a chick!"

His body slumped forward against the sink, his face hitting the mirror. "Ugh, I'm a moron!"

No, the stupid thing wasn't the marriage. The stupid thing was letting his guard down. He'd shown his cards. He hadn't even known his own hand, and he'd laid it down like a cheap little...

"No. I can fix this. I'll just call him, he'll be kind of weird but we'll laugh, everything can go back to normal." No. No, not normal. Timmy wasn't his assistant anymore, he was his husband. His husband, who seemed to hate his guts and was no longer obligated to spend every day catering to his flights of fancy. But they were married - certainly that gave Russell certain rights. Was he never supposed to see his husband?

"Work visa," he reminded himself. Sham marriage. Timmy didn't want to be married to him.

"Do I want to be married to Timmy...?"

Russell knew the answer. At the very least, on some basal level, he knew what he wanted from Timmy. Russell hadn't been hiding his subconscious feelings very well lately. The last year had led way to a number of veiled come ons, weird coincidences, desperate actions to keep him around. But he shoved the thought back down. He didn't want these thoughts. He did, but he didn't. He was confused beyond reason.

This was all Radha's fault, he assured himself. So sure, she had some uncanny similarities to Timmy, and sure, he'd nailed her with a kind of genuine passion with which he'd rarely nailed anyone, but that didn't mean anything! It was a bizarre coincidence. If anything, this weird drunken come on had been a case of mistaken identity.

Russell's heart sank very quickly to his stomach and everything started to shift in his brain. He knew what was happening, but didn't want to admit it. Everybody had caught on to Russell's game when Radha came into the picture, they knew his true intentions for keeping Timmy around had to be deeper than needing a sidekick lackey. Marrying him just made matters worse.

Something had happened with Radha, something he hadn't told anybody and that he was trying to forget. His intentions had become overwhelmingly clear and she had called him out on it...

God, he wanted Timmy.

"No, I don't!"

Yes, he did.

"Do I...?"

He had a routine. A cliche routine, the stereotypical jackass misogynistic male, chasing skirts and taking whatever he could get. So Timmy scared the hell out of him. His presence had gradually broken a mold for Russell. Gradually over the course of knowing him, Russell had begun to change. He was fooling around a little less, he was grounding a little more. The chase was losing its' edge and he realized more and more that maybe love wasn't as overrated as he always joked it was. He wanted it more than anything, and it was the one thing his money could never buy. He was lonely. Timmy made him feel less alone.

Still, he was scared of getting too close to Timmy. He was uncomfortable with vulnerability, so he treated him like crap, but he wanted him to stay. Just at arm's reach. So he always apologized in some half-assed way when he needed to, and it usually didn't take much to make Timmy stick around. This was just how Russell handled relationships...but it almost hadn't worked, this time. He wanted Timmy to stay, he needed him to stay or he might fall apart. Nobody had ever gotten so close and stuck around before Timmy...as if he knew that deep inside Russell wasn't so bad, and that it was largely a facade.

But how could he drop it, now? It was too late, there was no way-

The phone rang. Russell flipped gears and raced for the living room where his phone was on the floor; he'd stared mindlessly at it before passing out the previous evening, hoping for contact from Timmy that never came.

He answered without looking at the caller and his voice came through a little too excited.

"Timmy?"

"Gay," came the voice on the other end. Jeff.

"Oh. What do you want, I thought you were busy being the lamest dad ever?"

"Yeah, well, Audrey wanted me to get everybody together...she had this weird idea, I think she's in post-birth stupor."

"She didn't give birth, Brenda did."

"Well...some kind of stupor."

Russell was itching, wanting Jeff off the phone. Timmy might be trying to call. "So what exactly is this big idea of hers?"

"She wants a group photo."

"Wow, double lame."

"I know, but she has some cockamamie idea in her head that we're a dysfunctional 'family of friends' or something. She's on about how all of our lives changed yesterday and she wants to commemorate it...by the way, about that." Jeff's cadence never changed, but he carried a slight snark now. "What the hell happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a married man. And you're married...to a man. I knew you guys were a little touchy feely but-"

"No we weren't! I mean, aren't! I mean, he needed a favor, I did him a favor."

"Well, be sure to not let me know when you consummate the marriage. I'm still dealing with the backlash from Liz, I don't need anybody else blabbing at me about stuff you do with your dong."

"Sick. Shut up. What about this picture?"

"Uh yeah, she called a photographer and something about next week. So talk to the hubby, we'll coordinate."

"Fake hubby."

"Whatever, I gotta go, she's talking about photo props or waffles or something, I don't know."

"Later."

The line went dead and Russell stared at his phone, willing it to ring again. He stared for what must have been a full minute before sighing, giving up.

And then it rang.

It was Timmy.

Russell answered, heart racing, and forced a casual, "Hey."

"Hello, Mr. Dunbar."

Russell chuckled. "That's your name now, too!" That's it. Goofy, joking, put up the wall.

"No...no, it isn't. I suppose I'm keeping my maiden name."

Russell sneered. "Well, then, what's with the phone call, Mr. Patel?"

"I wondered if you might be available over lunch. I-I could come over to your office, or-

"I'm still at home."

"Naturally."

"But I can meet you there. Or you could just come over to my place, or-"

"The office then. I'll be there in an hour."

Timmy hung up abruptly, leaving Russell in mild dread on the other end. He looked at himself; he looked terrible. He calculated the time it would take to shower and dress, and set himself in motion. This was make it or break it time.

* * *

Russell stared at the clock. Second. By. Second. Still no Timmy. He'd been doing little other than pacing his office floor, drinking coffee, trying to stay calm. Finally, a knock on the door.

"Come in?"

The door opened slowly, and Timmy averted his gaze at first, staring mostly at the floor as he entered the room. "Your assistant let me in."

"Ah, he's a nice guy, isn't he?"

"Yes, yes he seems nice."

The two men stood at either end of the room, not looking at one another. After a few awkward coughs and some haphazard whistling on Russell's part, Timmy forced himself to look him in the face. As if on cue, Russell returned the gaze, and Timmy broke the silence.

"About last night, sir-"

"I can explain. I can explain everything."

Timmy nodded. "I would really appreciate that, because you see, uhm..." He laughed lightly. "It seems as if you were...making an advance." No response. "And after the recent incident with the woman who so closely resembled me and the little snafu that we vowed to no longer speak of..." Still nothing. Timmy was trying to keep an even keel to his voice, but he was gradually getting more flustered. He was frustrated. He wanted answers. "Sir, what in the bloody hell is going on?"

"Dude, I was drunk. You look like my girlfriend, easy mistake."

"She's no longer your girlfriend, she broke up with you. Because you were creeping her out."

"That's not what happened!"

"Oh please, sir, let's not hash this out again."

Russell was practically screaming, now. "You want to know why Radha broke up with me?"

Timmy's voice rose to match Russell's. "Yes! Yes, maybe you can be honest with me for once!"

"You really wanna know?!" He paused, then began with the back peddling. "Man, like I said, I don't know, I guess she was creeped out by how much you were trying to be exactly like her." He laughed sharply, his voice cracking. "What was your goal, to get me in bed? You knew I was sexually attracted to her so you were trying to manipulate your way into my bed, is that it? You came on to me last night, you're sick!"

"Why is that your version?! MY GOD. Are you clinically insane or is it merely a hobby? I want the real reason!"

"...That is the real reason..." His voice trailed off.

The men met in a staring contest until Russell cracked, speaking through his teeth.

"I screamed out the wrong name."

Timmy froze. He understood immediately; it was blatantly obvious. As obvious as it was to anybody during the dawn of Radha. But he didn't want to say it; he barely wanted Russell to say it, he dreaded knowing, but he coaxed anyway.

"I'm quite sure that wasn't the first such occurrence."

"Yeah, but this time was a little different." Russell's pitch began to rise higher, a clear sign of nerves. "She was kind of weirded out." He shrugged with a grimace, "Like come on lady, what's the problem, you're not the first gal I've ransacked."

"But, sir...you seemed to genuinely like this woman."

"Well, she was sweet. And...she had that gorgeous skin and that accent and-"

"She was me."

Russell glared incredulously. "Whaaaaat?"

Timmy couldn't take this anymore. "Sir, whose name did you scream out during sex with Radha?"

"Why does that matter?!"

"You screamed out my name, didn't you?!"

Russell placed a hand over his mouth as if he were taken quite aback by such a suggestion. Timmy's look was unwavering, albeit clearly disturbed, and Russell's facade quickly dropped. He looked down and said nothing, which stood as an answer for the affirmative.

After a long silence, Russell spoke. "It doesn't mean anything."

"How is that possible...? This woman looked like me, she spoke like me, she was me. My god, this is one of the most disturbing conversations I've ever had in my life...I don't even think I can go on with this, I mean really."

All the color drained from Russell's face as he cupped his hands over his mouth and turned away from Timmy, trying to figure out what to do. He was visibly shaken. He may have been trying not to cry.

Timmy was hesitant on how to proceed. He'd been doing a lot of thinking and this meeting wasn't going the way he had planned in his head. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about the previous day's events for even a minute. It was affecting his work, it was driving him insane. And the worst part was not knowing how to feel about any of it. He could have left when things first started getting weird. He could have left years ago. Why was he standing there now, looking at Russell, waiting for him to turn back around as if they had any more to say? Why the hell was he trying to make this right?

Timmy's voice was very soft, anger subsiding and making way for something akin to sympathy. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Sir..."

Russell regained himself sharply and turned around. He stared into Timmy's face, almost through it. "Nothing more to say."

"Yes, sir. I suppose not."

"Come on, drop the sir. Please."

Timmy broke gaze for a moment before returning to meet Russell's eyes.

"Russell." He watched a sigh of relief come from the other man's chest. Timmy felt that warm tingling again, the one from last night, the one that made no sense to him. He didn't want to deal with it any longer. He wanted rid of it. And yet, he found it far more comfortable than raising voices and felt compelled to keep it going. "Russell...I...want you to know that it's okay." He cut Russell off before he could reply. "I don't really know why exactly it's okay, but it's...it's okay. I forgive you your faults. I know these last few months have been...strange, to say the very least. I absolutely did not overreact to any of these transgressions, but perhaps I can see where they were emanating from."

Russell struggled to speak. This boggled him, as he was rarely short on words; if anything, he had too many words. He shot himself in the foot with every stupid word. He was scared to speak for once in his life, which made him doubly scared. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and walked the distance to his desk. He sat down, adjusted his tie, wrung his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, si- Russell. What are you sorry for, Russell?"

"I don't really know. I guess...for everything. I mean, I'm the first to admit I'm an asshole."

"You're really not sir, but thank you."

"Not an asshole...?"

"Not one to admit it."

Russell nodded. "You can leave if you want, Timmy. I deserve that."

Timmy turned slowly to walk away. He paused as his hand brushed against the door handle, and instead he turned back around sharply. "No, I'm not finished. We're not...we're not finished."

Russell seemed relieved. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Russell, I don't understand what's happening but...I've grown accustomed to you."

It wasn't exactly a returned declaration of love, but it was something. Russell stood back up, walking slowly, hesitantly towards Timmy. Timmy found himself walking equally as slowly to the center of the room. They stopped about a yard apart, avoiding each other's gaze. How long could this last? Somebody had to do something. Both men stood rubbing their necks, looking around aimlessly, pretending that nothing was happening. Something was, indeed, happening.

Timmy looked to Russell finally. "I had a strange night."

Russell chuckled softly. "I woke up on the floor."

"I had strange dreams. I won't elaborate."

Russell raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, to which Timmy bit a lip awkwardly, but they let it go.

Scratch that, Russell wasn't letting it go. "What kind of dreams?"

The men were inching slowly closer to one another without realizing it.

"Well...I mean, it's only natural isn't it that when one is aroused unduly that the brain might...concoct scenarios."

"Aroused...?"

Timmy clenched his teeth. "I didn't mean that. I mean, I didn't mean it like that. I mean to say...never mind. Just never mind, I don't know what I'm talking about anymore." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Come here."

Russell looked around and then back to Timmy. "I am here."

"No, I mean...I need to know something. I don't think there's any other way to figure this out. God, what am I even saying. Please, just...just..."

Russell's lips lunged forward onto Timmy's. For just a moment, and then he pulled back, trying to read Timmy's face. It was blank. Lost. No answers.

"Timmy...?"

"Still thinking," he replied sharply, breathlessly. What was happening? What the hell was he doing? Get out. Get out now. Russell Dunbar had just kissed him, and not on the neck this time. GET OUT.

Timmy closed his eyes and kissed Russell. He pulled away gently, shakily, eyes still closed; the next thing he felt were Russell's lips back on his, more serious now, with a kind of force. One of desperation and desire, of something felt too long in some clouded recess of Russell's mind. Timmy felt the brush of his beard and tasted an alcoholic heat on his breath, and for a moment Timmy did nothing in response, rendered still in shock. And then his brain forgot what it was doing; he sank into it.

The kiss was hard, but controlled, as if both men were afraid of what they were doing. Finally Russell veered from this, a hand to the back of Timmy's head.

Timmy was lost. Whatever was happening, unwittingly or not, he was going with it. Their tongues fought. He mirrored placing a hand behind the other's head, which prompted Russell to take it a step further and let his other hand wander to Timmy's chest, trailing slowly down. When his fingers reached Timmy's waistline and began fiddling with his belt, something snapped in the younger man's mind, a moment of sanity in which he broke away and stared at Russell, his breath heavy and confused.

"Oh my god, what are we doing!?" Timmy sounded almost panicked.

"I don't know, I don't fucking know, you started this!"

"Oh dear lord, I did not start this, YOU started this! You've been after this for months now, for...for years, in some sick perverted kind of scheme you've gotten me to..." Timmy trailed off. He realized now that this wasn't merely Russell's doing. He had stayed. He had come back, knowing the game that was being played. He had been intrigued, he wanted to understand. He was fighting the mental fog that was making him behave so irrationally, but it was winning...either that, or perhaps what was happening wasn't so irrational after all.

Russell was a few steps ahead in this mind game. He'd been fighting this a lot longer than Timmy had. He had never connected with somebody in this way, and he wanted it. In this moment he wanted Timmy, yes, but it wasn't really lust, and that's what drove him the craziest. He knew what to do with lust...with women and lust. But this wasn't feeling quite as foreign to him as it had when the thoughts first started, if he was honest with himself. Months ago. Years ago. He'd slowly come to understand that Timmy completed him, in a yin yang kind of balance of good and evil in which he was the evil. And this good, gentle human was standing in front of him, clearly fighting with himself. He realized it would take time for Timmy to catch up. He was barely there himself.

"Timmy, I...I think I want this. I want...I want us."

Timmy pressed his hands to his face, trying to pace his breathing.

"I'm pretty sure I want this Timmy, but the thing is...I can't...I can't take it from you. If you want to give it to me, I'll take it, but not like this. Not if you-"

"Okay."

Shock. "O-okay?"

"Perhaps I want it too, I think, I don't know, I don't really know what I want, but sir - Russell, if we're going to do this, let's just..."

Russell took this as an invitation. He attacked. Before Timmy could react, Russell was kissing him, guiding him backwards and hitting hard against the door. He broke the kiss, finding Timmy's neck as he worked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh my god," muttered Timmy. "Ohhh my god, oh lord, what-" Russell's hand was working it's way down Timmy's chest, stomach, and finally gripped firmly at his crotch. "Mph. Damn it...Russell, there's no reason to - nng - to rush things, we can-" Russell shut him up with another kiss, which Timmy mindlessly returned briefly before a voice came from the other side of the door.

"Everything okay in there, Mr. Dunbar?"

Russell looked Timmy straight in the eyes while replying, "Just fine. No interruptions."

"Yes, sir." They listened to make sure the coast was clear.

Timmy took this as an opportunity to swerve away from the door, out of Russell's grasp. "I can't do this, Russell, I just can't."

Russell grabbed Timmy by the shoulders. "It's okay, I won't tell anybody, you think I'd want anyone to know? Please."

"It never even crossed my mind that you would dare tell another living soul, but...still, I don't think we should, this is insane."

"It's not insane, Timmy, it makes sense, it's the only thing that makes any sense to me anymore."

Timmy shook his head. "What if somebody comes in?"

"Dude, you know how many chicks I've taken in here. It's cool. I've versed the new guy on this, nobody gets in."

"But I-I'm on my lunch break, it's nearly over and I really can't afford to lose this job...please, I think we need to stop."

Russell's face went cold. He was at a loss. Timmy quickly amended his statement.

"That is to say, we should...we should wait. Maybe...maybe this evening."

Russell's voice went dead serious. "Where are we meeting?"

"Your apartment?"

"You'd better show up."

"I will."

The men stared at one another silently for what felt like several minutes.

"Okay," spoke Russell.

"Okay," returned Timmy. Without another word he turned deftly and exited the office. Russell's new assistant looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Mr. Patel."

Timmy nodded as he walked away. His stomach felt like a ton of bricks and his head was woozy. He was coming to the realization that he had just made plans with Russell to...to what? Have sex? Gay sex? Gay sex with Russell?

"Sex with Russell Dunbar..." He had inadvertently said this out loud. He was in the elevator. With several other people. They were staring at him and his eyes went wide. "-Is something you never want to have. Trust me, he was once my boss. Riddled with disease, you know, selfish lover, excuse me."

He stepped off the elevator and upon the door closing stomped a foot in frustration, flustered. He couldn't deal with this right now. He had to go back to work. For the employer who wasn't trying to get him into bed. He hoped. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

He sighed shakily under his breath as he exited the building, "Well, this is certainly a development."


	3. Decisions

Timmy had been sitting in the regular booth at the diner since the end of his shift. He'd been there for the better part of an hour, slowly stabbing at his food, thinking.

He was jolted by a voice.

"Hey, Timmy!"

Adam and Jennifer took the side across from him.

"So..." begged Adam with a sly smile.

Timmy blinked. "So...?"

"So how did it go last night?" Adam nodded and grinned as Jen rolled her eyes.

"Adam, be nice." She motioned to Timmy. "He has enough problems without you giving him crap."

Timmy stabbed at his plate some more. "Thank you, Jennifer." He made every effort to smile at the couple. "So, how does it feel being newlyweds?"

Jen shrugged. "A lot like yesterday...but I've gotta say, I'm glad we finally did it. We're thinking about having a ceremony for the family, you know, just a get together. We haven't really told our parents yet..."

"Yeah, well, my mom won't care," said Adam. "She likes you, Jen. She'll get a kick out of it."

Jen rolled her eyes. "Ugh, yes, your mom loves me. She loves everybody. I've seen her naked, for god's sake."

"Speaking of seeing people naked," began Timmy, and his face went sour. "I have no idea where I was headed with that, sorry."

Jen studied Timmy for a moment before offering a caring voice. "Are you okay, Timmy? I mean, I know this whole thing with Russell is pretty crazy."

"Yes, well. I suppose having a tracking chip implanted in you by a mad man who then forgets to sign important documents ensuring your very livelihood could only end in marriage."

"Ha, yeah, the tracking chip...I should have seen that one coming," quipped Adam.

Timmy piqued. "What? Why?"

"Well, maybe a month and a half ago Russell came over asking me these weird questions about what defines a stalker and how if you really care about somebody they should want you to know their every move...he didn't say anything about a chip, I mean, he was just acting super weird."

"Ugh," Jen grimaced. "How can he even try and defend that, like Timmy's some kind of dog!"

Timmy shook his head. "Yes, it's deplorable, but..." He let out a deep breathe. "He's insecure. Incredibly so. I don't know what that has to do with me exactly, but in some sick, disgusting way I suppose it shows he cares. Or...or that he's a controlling, pompous, arrogant douchebag who thinks he can do whatever he wants to whomever he wants without any sort of consequence, I haven't really made up my mind on this."

Adam sniggered. "Timmy said douchebag." Jen elbowed him. "What! I'm sorry, it's funny how he says it..." He mimicked Timmy's accent, "'Douchebag.' Ha."

Jen interjected. "To be honest, you're the longest relationship Russell's ever had. I mean, it's not a romantic relationship, I don't think he can sustain one of those for longer than a few days, however long it takes for the woman to break out."

"Break out like, STDs?" asked Adam. "Or like break out of his apartment?"

"Both," replied Jen.

"He's known you two for considerably longer than he has me," said Timmy, steering the conversation back on track.

"Yeah, but it's different," said Jen. "And besides, he used to hang out over at our place all the time, he was annoying. These two idiots would stay up all night playing video games, and then Russell would try and play porn on our TV...anyway, after he hired you that all just kind of stopped."

"No hard feelings," said Adam with a smile.

"What?"

"For stealing my best friend. Jen's better to hang around with anyway, she does stuff Russell doesn't, if you catch my drift." Adam raised a sly brow.

Timmy sucked in his lips. "Uhm, okay."

"Oh, not that I...would want him to..."

"Adam," nudged Jen, "we're steering off course again."

"Oh yeah, well," Adam recounted, "I remember when he first hired you, that was weird...you caught the bagel."

"Yes, I did."

"And then man, he started taking you everywhere, I don't really get why you went along with that."

"I'm not really sure, either," sighed Timmy. "I think in the beginning I really did expect...well, I don't know what I expected. I was stupid. Regardless, we're here now and I have no idea what I'm doing. I guess I'm still being stupid."

"Well, just focus on the fact that you get to stay in the country," reassured Jen.

Timmy nodded, and looked down at his plate. He gave up on eating, shoving it to the side. "I'm supposed to be someplace tonight. I can't decide if I'm going or not." A thought. "Do you two have plans, perhaps we could go do something?"

"Oh, no can do, Tim." Adam wrapped an arm around Jen. "We're going out on the town, you know, we're kind of still in the honeymoon phase. No offense, but you'd cramp my style a little bit." Whispering: "I think I might get laid!"

Jen elbowed Adam again before the group turned their eyes towards a figure fast approaching them.

It was Russell. He slid in next to Timmy in his usual manner, all smiles, tapping the table with his fingers. A visual charade.

"Hey, if it isn't the couple who've decided to take a slow downward spiral into misery, how's it going so far, still drinking the Kool-Aid tonight?"

Timmy moved ever so slightly away from Russell, rolling his eyes upwards. "What are you doing here?"

Russell looked at Timmy and chuckled, "What do you mean, I always come here. What's with that attitude, huh?" To Adam and Jen: "Guess I have a little more training to do with this one."

"All right, really, can we not do this!"

All eyes were on Timmy. Adam and Jen slowly stood from the booth, Jen offering a soft, "See you guys later..."

Timmy waited for them to disappear out the door before standing and moving to the seat across from Russell. "Seriously, what are you doing here? I thought we said your apartment."

Russell had dropped the act and was very serious. "I didn't know you would be here. Honest, I swear, I didn't know...and anyway...I guess I didn't think you would show."

"Well, frankly, I wasn't sure I would, either."

Even with white noise from other patrons, the silence between them was deafening. Timmy folded his hands in front of him on the table and focused only on his fingers, trying not to muss his words. He was nervous. He'd been doing nothing but thinking about what to say since he'd left Russell's office hours earlier.

"How long?"

"How long what...?" Russell's eyes darted awkwardly. "The member? Tim, you've seen it, you know."

Timmy's face hit the table for a moment before regaining composure. "Yes, despite the fact that I've already seen you nude on more than one occasion...god...what I mean to say is, how long have you been...I don't know...having these thoughts?"

"I don't know."

"Please, I need clarity on this, you can't deny that I've earned it."

Russell raised his voice. "I don't know!" Then, steadying himself: "I don't know. How long have YOU been having them?"

"I've never had them!"

Russell whispered now, "You kissed me. Willingly. A dude doesn't just kiss another dude." Two women walked by a moment later and Russell nodded towards them with his usual swagger, "Ladies." His sights returned then to Timmy. He was trying to deflect. He could tell it wasn't working.

Still, Timmy had to concede to Russell's point. He had in fact kissed him. He wasn't sure why, but he had. And he wanted to do it again.

NO! What? No, he didn't. Shut up, you stupid, stupid brain!

Timmy went back to focusing intently on his fingers. "But surely you must have some notion of how any of this happened. Because I can't really pin it down. I know that one moment we hate each other and the next we're sort of friends, but I don't understand..."

"I told you already."

Timmy looked to Russell in frustration.

"Listen, when you told me you were quitting...maybe something kind of clicked. I was...I didn't have a good time with that."

"You didn't really leave me any options."

"Well you stayed through everything else, how was I supposed to know you'd leave this time?"

"You implanted a tracking device in me! You secretly overtook my personal autonomy. The reasons why are irrelevant, decent human beings don't do things like that!"

"Since when was I supposed to be a decent human being?! Geez, you have some really high expectations of me, stop expecting the impossible!" Russell's voice wavered. "Besides, can we...can we drop this already, I don't know how many times I can apologize. It was stupid, I get it." He looked to Timmy, who seemed to be waiting for him to speak again. "Okay, I...I've never gotten this close to somebody before. I've never shared so much with somebody. At first I was just doing it because I thought you were another disposable lackey-"

"I appreciate that."

"No problem. But you went along with just about everything I told you to do."

"You were paying me. Sort of. A little bit."

"You went out on double dates with me because I paid you? You went to games with me because I paid you? Vacations?"

"I accompanied you on one vacation, it was to Disneyland, and I spent the majority of the time carrying your souvenirs so you could ride the teacups." Timmy quickly added, "But yes, I see your point."

More silence. More studying of hands and tables and passers by and anything else of adequate divergence.

"Okay," Timmy offered finally. "I like you. You're messed up beyond all reason, and I unequivocally do not appreciate being, as you said, a lackey...but I genuinely enjoy your company when I'm being treated as a human being."

Russell smiled and his voice went light, innocent. "We've had some good times! Remember, you got that picture with Goofy!"

Timmy smiled at this with a slight laugh, "Yes, and you grabbed Cinderella's breasts."

"Good times, man." Now that the mood was lightened Russell took a chance. "So, are we...are we going back to my place, or...?"

Timmy had forgotten for a moment what the final line was this evening. He was feeling a little better, he was having a Russell-is-tolerable moment, but now they were back to the matter at hand and he was feeling queezy and confused again.

"Well..." Timmy was quiet for a long enough time that Russell grew worried. Then, finally: "Are you going to grab my breasts?"

For a moment they stared at one another with blank faces, until laughter overtook them both. Humor was a saving grace. And then, without another word, they both stood up and walked towards the exit.

Russell reached for Timmy's hand, which Timmy fought with a shake of his head. Russell's hands went into his pockets as they hit the outside air.

"Before I change my mind," said Timmy softly, and not another word was spoken between them.

* * *

Russell entered the apartment first. He flipped on a light and turned his head to ensure Timmy was still with him. There he was, entering the threshold of the apartment without a word. That was Russell's first big sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what might happen, maybe Timmy would suddenly realize what a mistake this was and run screaming from the building. But no, there he was, casually following Russell inside.

"It's unusually cold tonight." Timmy was trying to keep himself calm with small talk.

"Well, my apartment is pretty warm. Soooo...there's that."

"Yes, indeed. Still, one never knows when one might need a sweater. Oh-did you ever find the sweater I left at the office...?"

"Sweater? What sweater?" Yes. It was behind his desk. He had been petting it everyday at work. And smelling it. It smelled like Timmy. Russell was not, he assured himself regularly, a psycho.

"No matter," said Timmy.

Russell eyed his apartment for anything out of place; anything embarrassing. He walked deftly over to the coffee table and slammed closed his laptop, then shoved it under the table.

Timmy tilted his head. "Incriminating evidence?"

"The usual."

"A potpourri of pornography?"

"Yeah," chuckled Russell.

He'd spent the last few hours watching porn, and his search terms had somehow transitioned from 'teenage gangbang' to 'young gay Indian'. After each new video he'd laugh and ensure himself that hell, this wasn't doing anything for him, he definitely wasn't into guys, that was totally gross! And then to test his theory he'd watch one more. Then another. He may or may not have masturbated...while waiting for Timmy to come over...for sex. Ha, he totally wasn't into guys, though.

"So..." Timmy offered finally, "I did a lot of thinking today."

Russell was sure Timmy was changing his mind and his head raced with solutions to remedy this.

"And sir...Russell...I almost didn't come."

"I knew it." Russell's brain told his mouth to start spitting out word soup. "Listen, we can work this out, I know I pushed too hard, I'll back off, just please don't leave again, please stay, I need you to stay, you don't have to touch me or look at me or even give a shit about me but if you leave I swear I'll lose the little bit of sanity I have left..." Timmy was staring intently now, stunned by the flow of desperation escaping Russell's mouth. "I'm sorry, I-I'll shut up, just please don't leave."

"No, no, no, calm down." Timmy shook his head, gathering his thoughts. "No, I'll...I'll not be leaving, I promise you that much. But, sir- I am sorry, Russell, I'm not accustomed to addressing you as friend rather than employer, I'll get the hang of it."

"It's okay," managed Russell.

"At any rate, I'd been thinking, and I wondered if perhaps what happened back at the office was insane...if I shouldn't have behaved the way I did, if I perhaps led you on..."

Russell couldn't control his mouth. "Led me on?! Dude, you kissed me! You told me you wanted it!"

"I wasn't thinking straight!"

"Well, that's undeniable, buddy, you were making out with a man!"

Timmy bit his lip and nodded in acceptance of this. "May I continue with my point?"

Russell looked like a child scorned. "...Yes."

"I came to a conclusion from all of this thinking I was doing. What happened wasn't entirely insane, I realize it's been building for quite some time. I just think that we should take this slow...I've never dealt with something like this before. I mean you, I've dealt with you for longer than I ever suspected I would, but you must admit that this turn in our relationship all feels more than a little bizarre."

Russell carefully tread his next words. "All I know is that last week I was having sex with one of the hottest women I'd ever met, and now all I can think about is this. You. I dunno dude, I think I'm losing it and I don't know who to blame."

Timmy made his way to the sofa and sat down. He carefully patted the cushion to his right in invitation and Russell made his way over, relaxing as he sank down.

Timmy rubbed his own arms, unsure of what to do now. Should he be touching Russell in some way? What was just far enough without going over the edge again? He finally settled on placing a hand softly to Russell's leg. Russell's hand quickly, instinctively found Timmy's and their fingers gently intertwined.

Russell gave a half-smile. "Why doesn't this feel as weird as it should?"

Timmy returned a weak grin. "I remember not too long ago when holding hands was a fiasco for us."

"Hey, I thought you were a chick, and you didn't hold back much yourself, buddy."

"It's strange. The more I think back to some of those things, the more confused I get. And oh dear, the ribbing we got for that one, and now look at us."

Without really meaning to, Russell had taken to stroking a finger over Timmy's knuckles, their hands still locked. "You know how many people have thought we're gay for each other?"

Timmy's eyes narrowed. "Such as?"

"Well, I mean the gang always jokes."

"Oh well yes, of course."

"And then all the strangers in the street. Remember that guy who called us fags the one time? And that old broad who told us we should just kiss already?"

"Is it a vibe thing, have we given off a vibe?" questioned Timmy, sounding put off by the idea.

"I don't know man, but I've had girls in bars flat out reject me when I'm with you, you really screw up my game."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the reason, no chance they're merely responding to your stellar personality."

Russell mock laughed, picking up on Timmy's sarcasm for once. "Ha, ha, ha."

"Besides," Timmy said, "it seems I've become your game, now."

Russell squeezed Timmy's hand. "No, it's not a game with you. Well, I mean it is. But not like that."

"Then what's your game with me?"

"You know."

"No, I really don't."

Russell sighed out. "I push you around. Because, I don't know, maybe I just want to make sure you'll stick around."

"By trying to turn me off of any kind of relationship with you?"

Russell's voice grew louder. "I'm an idiot! We've established this!"

Timmy, not missing a beat, spoke flatly serious: "What's the next idiotic thing you intend to do with me?"

Russell raised an eyebrow, trying to determine if this was an invitation. Timmy's poker face wasn't helping, so he made an executive decision, learning in gently and placing his lips to Timmy's, his free hand to his cheek. Timmy was still reluctant but found himself kissing Russell back. They stayed like this for some time, not making the mistake of attacking one another again. They needed to move slowly or they would both panic.

Timmy finally put his hand to Russell's chest, and Russell allowed the kiss to break.

Russell rested his forehead against Timmy's. "Okay?"

"Yes," said Timmy. "I just need to think."

Russell pulled back to meet Timmy's eyes. "What is there to think about, Tim? I want this, you want this, we're golden."

"You know it's a lot more complicated than that."

"Yeah, in the long run, sure. But right now it's just us. I already told you, I won't tell anybody."

"And again, I trust you won't," answered Timmy. "I don't suspect you'd jump to admit to having sex with another man."

Russell's eyes were huge, now. "So...you want to? Sex? Have sex? I mean, I get that we're fooling around, but I thought that's all you wanted..." He laughed, almost relieved.

Timmy yelled out of frustration, "I don't know what I want!" He quickly turned his tone around when he saw how taken aback Russell was. "I mean, I...damn it, Russell, how can you be so blasé about this? I for one have never even had an inkling of being with another man, at least I don't think I have, I mean...certainly people experiment but for as long as I've ever known myself, up until now I've only ever been attracted to women."

"So you're attracted to me...?"

"Stop reading into everything I say!" A long pause between them allowed Timmy to calm back down. "I don't know. I've never really thought to myself, 'gee, Mr. Dunbar is certainly a sexy man,' my god. I suppose it's like...it's like this. You know when you meet somebody and you find them physically attractive, and then gradually you come to be attracted to them as a person? Their personality, who they are beyond the physical? I guess it's safe to say the opposite has happened here. I've very...very gradually become attracted to you as a person, thereby enabling me to become attracted to you physically. You see, it's a process of association."

Timmy could see the wheels turning in Russell's head. He tried to simplify. "Yes, I'm becoming attracted to you now because I like you as a person."

Russell smirked. "Y'know, that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."

Timmy looked genuinely concerned by this. "You don't have the greatest people in your life."

"Yeah, I guess not." Russell looked down. "I guess...I don't really have anybody, actually."

Timmy squeezed Russell's hand this time, and their eyes met again.

"You have me."

Russell quickly pulled his hands free and wrapped his arms around Timmy, tight. "Please don't leave again. I can do better. Please."

Timmy returned Russell's embrace. "I promise, I won't go anywhere."

Pulling apart slowly, the two men looked to one another with sincerity. Standing from the sofa, Russell took Timmy's hand and they started their slow journey down the hall to the bedroom.


	4. Giving In

Timmy was waking up. Something felt off; he wasn't in a familiar place. He blinked groggily, realizing his glasses were off and he couldn't see clearly. He pulled his arm out from under a blanket; his watch said it was 7am. Then where the hell was he-

"Oh, dear lord." Timmy threw the blanket atop him to the side to find himself fully dressed. His face writhed in confusion until he heard a voice a few feet away.

"We didn't do anything. You fell asleep. Glasses are on the night stand."

Timmy turned his head to see Russell standing near the bed, brushing his teeth. He was wearing an old black t-shirt and pajama pants.

"What time is it?" questioned Russell.

Timmy had already forgotten. He looked to his watch again. "Just past 7."

"A.M.? Yuck," grimaced Russell before returning to the bathroom. Timmy heard him spit and then, "Wait, don't you need to get to work?"

"No, I...what day is it? No, I'm off today. I think."

Russell rejoined Timmy, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed. "Don't get in trouble on my account, if you have to go it's cool."

"No, it's quite alright," Timmy mustered, still visibly confused. "What happened last night?"

"Oh...well, we got as far as the bed and we sort of laid here for awhile, you passed out, I threw a blanket on you, that's about it."

Timmy chewed a lip. "So we didn't...?"

Russell shook his head. "No. Uhm, we kind of...cuddled?" Russell sneered at the word. "Dude, I didn't even like saying that word when it was about women." He added shortly, "I kind of...laid my head on your chest."

"Okay, I seem to remember now." Timmy was regaining clarity and looked to Russell now with a raised brow. "You didn't try to pull anything."

"It didn't seem...right."

A long silence.

"Hey, uhm, you want some clothes? Get outta the stuffy suit?"

"Not sure we'd fit each other." Both men's faces went funny at the remark and they averted each other's gaze. "I mean clothes, not sure your clothes would fit me."

"At least a shirt, get outta the coat and tie, I'll grab something."

Timmy managed to stand from the bed, removed his shoes, slipped off his suit jacket, loosened his tie. Russell tossed him a shirt and Timmy caught it. He started heading for the bathroom when Russell spoke.

"Just a shirt, Tim, you can change in front of me." He chuckled. "If you can't even do that, yet..."

Timmy conceded to this. He took off the tie and placed it alongside his jacket on the bed. He began to unbutton his shirt until he realized that Russell was staring at him intently from the other side of the bed. For a moment he paused, and then he returned to the buttons until his shirt hung open.

They stared at one another. Just stared. And finally Timmy realized that Russell was inching towards him. Timmy slipped off his shirt nervously and put it on his pile of clothes. By the time he started for the t-shirt Russell was next to him, placing a hand to his bare shoulder.

"Tim..." Russell pressed his fingers into Timmy's shoulder. "Maybe, uhm...if you really don't have to be anywhere today..."

Timmy was silent for a long while, not moving, barely blinking, staring into Russell's face. It looked so sincere and soft for once, and he couldn't help but find some comfort in this.

"Timmy?"

Still no response.

"Oh, fuck it." With that Russell kissed Timmy, softly at first until Timmy began to ease into it. And then the familiar desperate force from the office kicked in, and Timmy realized that he was being shoved back onto the bed. He let himself fall and the kiss break, his legs dangling the edge. Russell deftly jumped up on the bed and guided Timmy to turn around so his legs were on the bed as well. As Russell's weight pressed down against Timmy, their mouths met again, the force of the embrace growing harder. They stayed like that for a few minutes, exploring each other's mouths awkwardly, not sure what to do with their hands. Russell finally came up for air and allowed his head to fall to the side of Timmy's, gently kissing his neck. They were both breathing hard and the room was spinning.

"Well, what now," breathed out Timmy. "I've never really done this before. I mean, not this particular...variety...of...this..."

"I have," ensured Russell, and he picked himself up lightly so as to trail his lips down Timmy's chest.

"Wh-what? Oh, really?" Timmy was trying to force a casual demeanor despite presently having a man kiss and lick his way down the length of his torso. "Why don't I know about this?"

Russell stopped what he was doing to raise a brow in Timmy's direction. "Not exactly public knowledge material, pal."

"Ah yes," said Timmy, "Quite right."

"Anyway." Russell licked Timmy's stomach firmly, causing him to lurch sharply and groan an _ohhhh lord_ out under his breath. "College," Russell muttered between kisses. "I experimented a little. Threesomes, group stuff. It seemed to turn the chicks on so I made it work."

"No chicks here now," Timmy said, trying to control his voice from shaking.

Russell looked to Timmy, a seductive heat entering his eyes. "Don't need any." He waited another beat. "Are you okay?"

Timmy shook his head. Then he nodded. Then he shook his head. "I don't know. Russell-"

Hearing his name come out of Timmy's mouth turned him on and he growled, kissing Timmy's stomach again; he felt another soft lurch upward which made him smile. "You wanted to go slow, we can go slow." His smile slowly fell. "Yeah, this is a little weird, huh?"

Timmy didn't have any confidence in this situation and he wasn't prepared for Russell to lose his. If this was going to happen, Russell had to take the initiative. "It's extremely weird." He grabbed Russell's hips. "So what now?"

Russell crawled off of Timmy and laid beside him, applying a soft kiss to his lips. His hands went to Timmy's waist and he started on his belt. Timmy closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing. Zipper down. Fingertips finding him already erect. A hand grasping, tugging gently.

"Ohh, lord." Timmy's eyes flicked open a moment to find Russell crawling down the bed, and he closed his eyes just before he felt Russell's tongue hit. "Ohhhhkay..."

Russell placed a hand to Timmy's stomach in assurance that everything was okay. A moment later he had an inch in his mouth, and then another. Part of Russell's brain had shut off; he'd imagined doing this before, he'd played it out in his head, always trying to convince himself that he didn't really want it, though he knew he did; but he sill wasn't completely confident in what he was doing. He didn't normally perform oral on women, much less men, but he wanted to do this in some primal way. Timmy was starting to writhe beneath him and it turned him on. The more Timmy's body responded, the more focused Russell became, allowing himself to sink further down, to suck a little harder. He stayed at this for several minutes with his eyes closed, allowing himself to embrace the textures and pulsings against his tongue. Every movement from Timmy made the blood to his own cock flow harder.

Timmy could feel himself resisting. He wanted to relax and come, he did, but part of him was saying not to; he was still holding back. Finally he put his hands to the sides of Russell's head, grasping at his hair, which only made Russell work harder.

Timmy's body eased into the experience for a moment, long enough for Russell to sense a familiar pulsating and to release his mouth, tugging almost violently at Timmy's cock as he lurched and came. Timmy tried very hard not to vocalize but found himself grunting through his teeth until his orgasm subsided, his body sank back down, and he felt Russell's hand let go and move up the length of his torso, wet with cum.

There were no words for a moment, both men panting and nervous. Finally Russell's voice came out softly: "Did I, uhm...did I just blow you?"

"Yes," Timmy nodded emphatically, "I believe so."

Russell layed back down next to Timmy. They both stared at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact.

"Sooo...was that okay?" asked Russell.

"Yes..." assured Timmy flatly. "Thank you."

More silence.

Russell offered finally, "You don't have to do anything to me."

Timmy looked to Russell. "That hardly seems fair." He wasn't about to put up a fight on this point.

Russell gave Timmy a shrug and a soft smile as they met eyes at last. His voice was gentle and loving, as if he was talking to somebody he cared for deeply. "I'm fine just laying here. I just like being with you."

Timmy cocked his head gently. He was genuinely taken aback by this. "Sir...Russell...I can't imagine you saying those words to anyone."

"Just said 'em," replied Russell.

Timmy's breath became hard again; he was confused. Russell seemed genuine in this moment, sincere, sweet, and something snapped in Timmy's brain. Without thinking, he grabbed Russell's face, kissing him deeply. He didn't care right now. They'd come this far. His head was hot and flustered; his hand shook as he reached slowly into Russell's pants and felt how hard he was. He'd touched this region of Russell before, but never sexually. An odd realization to be sure, but here they were now, and Timmy was stroking fingers gently against Russell's cock as their tongues danced. Russell was shaking by now, tortured by the gingerness of Timmy's touch.

Russell spoke through their kiss. "Get me off, please, it won't take much..."

Timmy grasped firmly now, stroking hard, and Russell left Timmy's mouth, collapsing backwards. He was less subtle vocally as he came almost immediately, hard and fast. "Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes, yes, yes..." Timmy waited for Russell's body to collapse back down before removing his hand. For a moment he was unsure of what to do with it, and finally he settled on wiping the cum off onto Russell's shirt, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

"Yeah," sighed out Russell one last time, and the men laid beside each other again, spent and quiet.

Russell turned finally to lay his head on Timmy's chest, which Timmy allowed. He found himself stroking Russell's hair before wrapping his arm around him. He tried to focus on the small details. The deepness of Russell's breath. How his hair was less greasy than one would imagine. How this situation was more comforting than he thought it would be; he felt somehow safe in this moment. He wasn't sure why.

Russell spoke gently, his voice clearly overcome by emotion. "Will you stay with me?"

Timmy rubbed his hand gently against Russell's shoulder. "Yes."

"Forever?"

Timmy sighed. "I...well...yes. Yes, Russell, I'll stay."

Russell smiled and sank into Timmy's chest. He was so childlike, sometimes. He needed Timmy. Timmy wasn't sure he wanted to be needed in this way, but he wasn't rejecting the situation.

He simply laid there, his thoughts jumbled up, running in a million different directions. He knew what was happening. He had been fighting it tooth and nail. But something was changing. He asked himself if he wanted to be there in this moment, and he did. That's all he really needed to know.

* * *

Around noon, Timmy awoke to realize he'd fallen back asleep. He wasn't exactly sure when this had happened; the last thing he remembered was holding Russell after...well. Timmy got up and finally put on the shirt Russell had tossed him. He heard tinkering outside the open bedroom door, and followed the sound. Russell had just emerged from the kitchen. He looked to Timmy with a smile.

"Heyyy, sleepyhead. I made breakfast."

"It's noon," said Timmy.

"Well, whatever. Food. Eats. You're a growing boy, Timmy." He bit a lip. "Mm. You look good in my shirt. God, it's always such a turn on when a girl wears my clothes after sex..."

"Not a girl, and not...exactly sex."

"Whatever you wanna call it. You want coffee?"

"Yes, I need it. I'm sorry though, I'm not sure I can eat."

Timmy had made his way to Russell's sofa and leaned back, staring upwards. Russell sat beside him a moment later, handing him a cup of coffee which Timmy grabbed and sipped with a shaky hand.

"Can I ask you a couple of questions?" Timmy posed.

"Yeah, anything."

"Where do you intend for this to go?"

Russell wasn't really prepared for this question. "Uh, well...we're married, I think that's really the long and the short of it."

"Yes, but you and I both know it's a sham marriage. And frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready for it to be anything else."

"God, I knew this would happen." Russell stood, pacing the floor in front of Timmy. "I knew it."

"I don't mean to say that I don't want this, Russell, okay? It's just a lot to take in all at once, a couple of days ago I hated you and thought I'd likely never even have to see you again."

"Wow," muttered Russell, still pacing.

"Okay, that's not entirely honest, I'm sorry. I missed you...quite a lot, actually."

Russell stopped walking. "Then what's the issue? I'm here now. These last few days were torture, I can't deal with you hightailing it again."

"I told you I wouldn't," Timmy assured, "but I'm still just trying to sort this all out in my mind, you must understand, you're surely doing the same thing."

Russell nodded. "Trust me, that's all I'm doing."

"Then alright, that's all I'm saying. Another question and then I'll leave it alone..."

Russell sat back down next to Timmy. "Shoot."

"Are we keeping this to ourselves? I'm definitely not prepared to explain this to outsiders before we even really understand it ourselves."

Russell chewed a finger. "Yeah. I'm not exactly in the mood for Jeff and Adam to know that I gave you a blowjob."

"Thought not."

Timmy sipped his coffee again and for awhile they sat silent.

"I meant it," said Russell softly.

"Meant what...?"

"That I love you. I do. I love you."

Timmy nodded gently. "I know you do." He took a breath to think. "And, I suppose..." A heavy sigh to keep steady. "I...do too."

Russell's face was deathly serious. Timmy hadn't said the word, but it was close enough. Russell was taking it. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I think so. I mean, I do...it's just going to take me a little while to figure out what exactly I mean by that."

"I've got nothing but time," Russell said with a small smile. Timmy found himself smiling back.

"Very well, then."

* * *

After Timmy had sort of kind of told Russell he maybe loved him, they'd attempted to settle into some kind of normal relationship...stuff. Russell turned on the tv and they surfed channels, they joked about what they were watching, they ate breakfast for lunch, they snidely insulted each other, they complained about work. Russell tried to make out, Timmy allowed some kissing, put up a wall on anything further.

A couple of hours later, Timmy had disappeared into the bedroom.

"Hey, Tim, you wanna order takeout?" Russell looked to the bedroom door to find Timmy walking out, dressed. "Whoa, hey, you leavin'?"

"I was considering it."

Russell nodded. "Okay, well...I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"I have to work tomorrow."

"After work?"

"I'm really not sure, I may have to stay late, boss has me under a major grind right now."

Accidental innuendo. They met eyes sheepishly before returning to the conversation.

"Are you blowing me off, Timmy?"

Both men took a beat before wincing and stomping in aggravation.

"We've really gotta stop doing that," muttered Russell.

"No matter..." Timmy walked slowly towards Russell. "Anyway, that's really not my intention, I think I may just need a little space. This day has been one of the most comfortable I've had in a long time."

Russell grinned, his voice growing in excitement. "You know, we could do this every day...you could move in...it would be great, we could-"

"I'm not ready for that, Russell."

His grin dropped. "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean...yeah. So...where does that leave us, exactly?"

"I have to think about it."

They were standing very close now, and Russell was trying to not touch Timmy. His hands were lingering a few inches from his hips, wanting desperately to grab him. To make him stay.

Finally Timmy took the initiative of placing his hands atop Russell's, guiding them onto his hips.

"You know, you're a different person when you want to be. A decent person. Keep that up, and we'll see. Because...I like this Russell. I like this version of you. I'm just afraid..."

"Afraid of what?"

"I'm just afraid the other Russell might come back out at any moment. The one who thrives on humiliation and insults. I've been dehumanized so often in the past, that these last couple of days have been...confusing. And before you say anything, I know it's a defense mechanism. It's just an intensely deplorable one that tends to hurt people."

Russell was stunned, his brow furrowed. "Wow...you're really gonna leave it like that, Tim? Seriously? I don't deserve that."

"I haven't deserved a life of servitude these last few years, either."

"Where the hell is this coming from? I thought we were having a good time together!"

"We were...we are. I just need to think!"

"That's all you keep saying, that you need to think! How much thinking is there to do?!"

"A lot more than you could ever muster!"

Russell's hands left Timmy's hips now. He looked defeated. Timmy suddenly regretted saying anything.

"Russell, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."

Russell's tone was flat in surrender. "Timmy, I can't keep apologizing for everything. All I can do is be here now, be this version of me or whatever. I'm a dick, you know I am. Just...give me a chance. Please."

Timmy remembered how vulnerable Russell was, and he felt badly about himself for a moment, for making this process so complicated. He couldn't let himself get hurt, but he didn't want to be the one hurting Russell, either.

"I definitely will give you a chance. I meant what I said earlier...let's just take this a step at a time, shall we?"

"What's the next step?" questioned Russell.

"I don't really know."

Russell squirmed. He wanted this. He wanted it so badly that it was palpable. He had been in denial for so long that, upon realizing his true feelings, he was obsessed with making it come to fruition. It had only been a day, but he felt as though Timmy should be in the same place he was. How could he get him there?

Russell offered a soft kiss which Timmy returned.

"That doesn't stop being weird," Timmy said.

"Weird but good, right?"

"Yes, weird but good."

"Please stay..." Russell was begging now. His face looked childish, pleading. Timmy was conflicted.

"If I stay for the rest of the day..." He looked for words. "I'll still need tomorrow. To sort it out in my head. No contact, no...no more of this. For at least tomorrow. I'm afraid whenever we're together lately our brains cease to work in one way or another."

"Understood. Just stay with me for the next few hours, I promise it will all be okay."

Timmy felt himself tensing up again. He had tried so hard to force himself out that door and he was being pulled back in by this weird, comforting heat. "What are your intentions...?"

Russell's breath was quickening. "I want you."

Timmy forced his voice to be flat, controlled. "I don't know if I can."

"Timmy, please, for god's sake, I want you so bad it hurts."

Timmy took a few seconds to read Russell. For a painful few moments he believed he could surrender, he wanted to give in. He was pulled in by this thing Russell did, whatever it was. It always pulled him back in when he knew better.

"...I'm sorry."

Russell stood silently, his eyes closed. Timmy knew exactly what he was witnessing, he'd seen it a million times, after Russell had been shot down by whatever girl he was chasing. There was a certain cooling down period for a horny and rejected Russell, a methodology to taming the beast back into its cage. Timmy looked around with an awkward tension until Russell nodded and sighed.

"Maybe later?"

"Maybe," Timmy conceded.

Russell smirked knowingly. "Yeah, well. I'm gonna go freshen up..."

"Masturbate."

"Yeah, well..."

Timmy watched Russell retreat to the bedroom and for a moment he stood firm, unable to move. He was strongly conflicted. He had just promised Russell he would stay, but every fibre of his body was screaming to leave. He looked to the door, dizzy and sick.

A few minutes later Russell bounced into the living room with a whistle.

"Hey, Timmy, what about that takeout? I was thinking Chinese..."

Timmy was gone.


	5. Timmy Leaves

Timmy stared into his glass of beer, focusing intently on the suds and how the light played on the liquid. There was an obnoxious thud to the music in this place and it was hurting his head. He never got this drunk. He felt his phone vibrate for about the tenth time, and he ignored it again. He already knew who it was, and he didn't want to deal with it. He couldn't deal with it.

"Hey, this seat taken?"

"What?"

He looked up to see a petite blonde girl looking him over as she sat next to him at the bar. "I haven't seen you here before. You look sad."

"Oh, uh...no, just...one of those days, you know?"

"Yeah. Well, one of those days for me, too, I guess. I can pick 'em. Just thought I'd come talk to a fellow lonely hearts club member, ya know?"

They exchanged a friendly, tipsy laugh.

"Say, uh..." offered Timmy. "Would you...would you like to go someplace a little less...horrendously loud?"

The woman brushed the hair from her face with a sly smile. "Yes. Yes, I would. But I can't promise not to get loud."

* * *

Russell texted Timmy a twelfth time.

"Maybe he lost his phone." He chuckled softly. "That's so Timmy!"

Denial. The texts had been desperate and angry, in total opposition to his present false demeanor. He changed the channel on the TV as he ate the last of the cold Chinese food. This sucked. He kicked the table.

How could Timmy do this to him? Russell had been having what was probably the happiest time of his life, and Timmy had just up and left. He'd been gone for nearly six hours now, and not a word. He had lied to him, straight to his face, and abandoned him. Timmy wasn't any different from anyone else in his life. He had left. They all leave, eventually. Fuck him.

God damn it, why wasn't he texting back?

Maybe something had happened to him. Russell felt a sharp pain in his chest, a moment of worry, and then he settled back on a weird mixture of disappointment and anger. No, Timmy was fine. Just a jerk.

Russell hated feeling this way. Vulnerable, needy. He worked so hard to keep himself together and on top of things, a cool cat, casual and slick. Somehow, he was turning into a forlorn lover, and he felt pathetic. He wanted Timmy to come back; he wanted him so much it hurt. He wanted to feel him, to hear him say his name, for him to will a touch and not be repulsed by the idea. Maybe Timmy hadn't meant any of it, maybe it had all been a huge mistake.

That's it. He had left because he was so sick he had gone to throw up and he would never ever talk to Russell again as long as both of them were alive.

"I should text him again."

No, no, don't do it, no.

He got a text; in desperation he flicked the screen, only to read a message from a random woman with a proposition for sex. Normally this would have been an instant win. A rare score, a bizarre roll of the dice in his favor. So why wasn't he jumping on it?

He thought about it for a minute. He texted back finally, "Sorry baby, busy tonight," and went back to waiting for Timmy. Immediately after doing this he sneered at himself sickly, eyes wide. "Wait wait wait, what am I, insane?!" And rushed to type back: "Just kidding, where do you wanna meet?"

A message back: "Sorry pal, you snooze, you lose."

"You snooze, you-jeez, it was like point two seconds ago." Then shaking his phone in aggravation: "Where the hell is he!" Then, softly, painfully, "Where the hell is he...?"

* * *

They'd had sex. She was asleep on the bed. Timmy hadn't wanted to take her home so he had sprung for a cheap motel downtown, and now he felt dirty and a little sick. This was completely out of character for him. Somehow he felt that he was becoming more and more like the company he kept, and running away from said company was only making it worse.

Timmy looked to his watch. 5am. He'd somehow spent the whole latter of yesterday at this; bar hopping, bedding this strange woman, and he couldn't really remember any of it.

He looked to the figure laying beside him. He'd used her to get back at Russell, he knew he had, and he had never been more ashamed of himself. She was a nice enough girl, drunkenly sarcastic with him as they had gone about their business. She hadn't seemed interested in him really for anything other than quick sex. He watched her now as she slept, smelling the alcohol on her. Her hair soft, in short cut blonde layers. Petite in stature-

Wait. Wait a minute. He was starting to realize something, now.

He stared very intently at the woman beside him; at subtle little hints about her, until something snapped in his brain and he realized what he had done. "Oh. Oh, my." She had reminded him of Russell. In some weird center of his brain, her personality, the hair, the stature, some part of this girl had triggered his Russell-neurons...and he'd taken her to a sleazy little out of the way place. He stood slowly to his feet, rubbed his temple firmly. "I've pulled a Radha." He set about getting dressed, not sure where he was going or what he was doing. He'd hit rock bottom. He needed a large, black coffee. He needed to get this straight in his head once and for all, before his brain exploded into a million pieces right there on the spot and they were forced to commemorate this rundown little fleapit in his name.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked to his notifications. 14 new messages. He hesitated briefly and took the plunge. All from Russell. He took a deep breath and began reading.

 _Timmy where are you?_

 _What the hell happened?_

Scrolling.

 _How the fuck could you do this to me?_

Scrolling.

 _I don't even like Chinese anyway we could have ordered Mexican._ _Or Indian you like Indian right?_

 _Fine don't answer me I don't want to talk to you anyway._

Scrolling.

 _Gandhi wasn't even that great of a guy._

Timmy rolled his eyes. "Ouch."

 _I didn't mean to do whatever I did please come back I need you._

 _I'm sorry I lied I do have your sweater. I just needed to have something. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I guess I still need it._

A soft breath. "Well, then."

Scrolling.

 _Fine ignore me. Fuck you._

Last message: _I'm sorry please don't hate me. I won't message you anymore._

Timmy sighed deeply, reaching to place the phone back into his pocket, when another text came in. He looked to the screen.

 _I love you._

Brow furrowed, Timmy bit a lip. He looked to the girl on the bed with a heavy sigh, then back to the phone. His fingers moved deftly over the letters, spelling out the words _I love you, too_ \- and then promptly erasing the message and sliding the phone back into his pocket.

He finished getting himself put back together, and headed for the door. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stay there.

He would find some excuse to call into work, something he hated doing, and wander the city for as long as he could until around noon, when he would find somebody to talk to...

* * *

"Mrs. Bingham. Hello." Timmy grinned widely as Audrey opened the door, and she returned the jovial welcome.

"Oh, Timmy, I haven't seen you since the hospital, come here." She gave him a warm hug. "To what do I owe the visit? Shh, baby's sleeping."

He followed Audrey inside her apartment, closing the door behind him. "Oh, just checking in on the happy home. And I'll be quiet so as not to wake her, then. How is little Shea?"

"Oh, she's doing just great. Settling into apartment life. Can't say the same for mommy and daddy though, I'm starting to really regret all those times I said I was tired on nine hours of sleep."

Timmy smiled with a light laugh.

"Yes, I don't suppose one gets much sleep with a newborn."

"Well, Jeff has yet to take diaper duty. Or bottle duty. Or...well, you get the idea."

"Yes, indeed."

"Photo shoot on Saturday, you and Russell are coming, right?"

"Oh, yes, right, Mr. Dunbar mentioned that. Lovely idea, wouldn't miss it."

"So, how's married life?" Audrey asked with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"Strange." There was a sincerity to Timmy's voice that made Audrey pause.

"...Yeah? How's Russell handling it?"

"About that, I...Mrs. Bingham, might I be open with you? On the condition that Mr. Bingham not be privy to our conversation, because I believe that could be rather disastrous. You see, it took quite a bit of courage on my part coming here and I'd hate to think it misplaced, so..."

"Of course, Timmy. I mean, I consider us good friends, I'd like for you to feel that you can trust me."

"Very well, then. Uhm...well, I suppose there's no easy way to say this, so..." Timmy waited a moment and then began to spit out words. "I believe that something may be developing between Russell and I. To put it more than a little mildly."

Audrey stared silently for a moment. "Oh." A beat. "You mean..." Timmy nodded. "You mean, like..." Another nod. Her voice went deeper. "Ohhhhh..."

"I shouldn't have told you."

"No no no, you should have, it's okay, uh, uhm...what...what makes you think this...exactly?"

"Well, you see, uhm...that night after we left the hospital he sort of...he...maybe I should leave."

Timmy turned to walk away and Audrey went after him, regaining herself.

"No, Timmy, I'm sorry, please, if you need to talk you can trust me, I'm all ears and I swear, I won't tell Jeff." She gave him an open smile and a soft, caring voice. "You seem really worried about this, are you okay?"

Timmy furrowed his brow. "May I sit down?"

"Of course."

They joined one another on the sofa, and Timmy placed his face in his hands, groaning.

"Mrs. Bingham, I think I'm going insane." He looked to her. "I think...I believe that...Russell is genuinely in love with me."

Audrey resisted pulling a face or reacting in any way, this time. "What...makes you think this, Timmy?"

"Well, for one thing...he told me so. Quite unequivocally, in both words and actions, let's say."

Audrey sighed out a long sigh. "Hoo boy. Well, that'd do it." She watched as his face turned down, his legs shaking nervously. "And uh, are you...hmm?"

"I...don't...know."

"Well, uhm, Timmy...what you're telling me is...insane, though not as shocking as it probably should be, given what I've witnessed between the two of you. Listen, let me tell you what I know about Russell. In the time I've known him, I've seen him do some pretty terrible, despicable things. What I saw him do in that hospital was one of the least awful things I've ever seen him do."

"That doesn't seem to be saying much."

"Well. His face lit up. I think he meant it."

"What do you mean?"

"He wanted to marry you."

"...Did he?"

"Yeah. Something really strange has happened to that man in a short period of time, and you did it to him."

Timmy found himself smiling thoughtfully. "Did I? What on god's green earth did I do, because I for one haven't been able to figure it out."

"I think you just accepted him. You put up with him. He's hard to put up with, you know that better than anybody."

"Yes, I certainly do." He nodded. "It's just that...well, we aren't...neither of us are..."

Audrey wove a hand gently, urging Timmy to complete his words.

"We're straight, Mrs. Bingham, I'm straight, I like women, I love women, and Russell is renowned for loving women, my god, he's a straight up slut for women."

Audrey's eyes widened as she nodded in agreement. "Well, yeah."

Timmy was starting to lose his cool. "But certain...things...have happened, and I mean, this isn't something that just happens, this isn't a switch that just gets flipped one day!"

Audrey scootched away ever so gently. Timmy was forgetting where he was, building up to a tangent.

"I mean how does such a man as Russell Dunbar suddenly start making homosexual advances towards another man? I mean how in the ever loving hell does this happen, and why have I willingly conceded to these advances, damn it Audrey, what's happening?!"

Timmy, realizing he had lost his cool, looked at Audrey with wide eyes, face blank, jaw gaped. He spoke softly: "Oh, I'm ever so sorry. Perhaps I should be going after all, I shouldn't burden you with this."

"Uh, Timmy, would you like my advice?"

He looked to her, dejected.

"Talk to him. Like I said, I've known Russell for a long time. He's not the greatest guy in the world, but then who is? He's just...well, he's Russell. We all love him for who he is. And I've never known him to care about anything as much as he seems to care about you. I can't claim to be an expert on human sexuality or even human relationships, I mean hell, I married Jeff Bingham. But I do know that we've been married for long enough and been through enough crap, and we've stuck it out and gotten through it. And you and Russell have been hanging around each other for how long now?"

"...Five years, more or less."

"You coulda left, you had every reason to. Found another job. Plenty of opportunities, I'm sure. You're a smart cookie, you could have owned the company by now."

Timmy nodded. He exchanged a small, knowing smile with Audrey.

"Talk to him."

"Yes. Thank you very much, Mrs. Bingham."

* * *

Russell had forced himself to go to work. A weird feeling, something reminiscent of responsibility, had kicked in. He blamed the company he had been keeping. Even if that company presently was being a crummy little dirt bag who hadn't answered his phone for a whole day.

He had been doing little else aside from swiveling in his office chair for the past couple of hours. He might have had a stack of papers a mile high on his desk by now, he wasn't sure; he knew his assistant kept coming in, mumbling things he didn't care about, adding to the pile, and creating new piles. Once in awhile he would say something to the guy to the effect of, "Yeah, take care of that," to appear as if he was still in charge and micro-managing.

"Hey, Russell?"

"Yeah, take care of that."

"Take care of what?"

"Huh?"

"Russell, it's me, it's Adam."

"What?"

"Aaadam Rhoooodes."

A hand stopped Russell's chair from moving, and Adam waved his other hand in front of Russell's face.

"Oh, God, dizzy. Adam?"

Adam chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I said. What have you been doing in here? There's like a million papers on your desk."

Russell looked around. "What the hell? That guy out front keeps giving me work to do, he's the worst! Timmy would have had all of this crap taken care of for me by now."

"Yeah, well, Timmy doesn't work here anymore, so you might want to think about actually doing your job again."

Russell sneered. "Blech. Do I have to?"

"Up to you. Anyway, I'm on break, you wanna go do something, grab something to eat? It's kind of quiet around here now, without...well, you know. I guess we kind of both lost our break buddy, didn't we? I've been hanging out with the new guy in accounting, but it's not the same, he kind of smells like Cheetos."

Russell stared through Adam. "...What?"

Adam continued, unphased.

"Yeah, Timmy and I used to do all kinds of stuff, like when we had the ping pong table, oh or the foosball the one time, we kicked so much ass. We'd get donuts in the break room, he used to do...stuff to yours, forget I said that. Anyway, kind of miss him around here."

Russell wasn't really listening, but he'd picked up on the crucial bits and couldn't handle this line of dialogue. "Yeah, I can't...I have to...work."

Adam laughed, leaning over and hitting Russell in the shoulder. "Ha! Good one, buddy, let's get out of here."

"Yeah," said Russell softly, "I don't...I just don't feel like it, okay. Maybe later."

Adam's smile dropped, replaced by a look of concern. "Hey, you need to talk? Newlywed to newlywed?"

Russell's voice grew louder as he put back on his air of mild annoyance. "Oh, c'mon, don't get gay on me."

"Says the guy married to a dude."

Trying not to scream a little too loudly: "Drop it!"

Adam changed his tone, putting up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, hey. Listen, I'm just kidding. Is there...is there something you need to talk about, Russell? Seriously, you seem tense."

Russell stood slowly, tapping the desk awkwardly. "No. No, there's nothing, uh...lunch. You...you wanted lunch? Let's go get Timmy."

"What?"

"Lunch, let's go get lunch."

"You...said let's go get Timmy."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, Russell, you...you kinda did."

Russell whined, despite his better efforts. "I kinda didn't! You can't prove I did! Shut up already, I thought you were hungry!"

"But...you did."

"But I didn't!"

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Is this like the time we were at the arcade and you lost like twenty times in a row and you kept telling me the knob was stuck but it clearly wasn't stuck? You're, like, the worst liar ever sometimes, Russell, and you're lying to me about something right now. Remember, we used to hang out way too much, I kind of know you a little bit."

Russell growled through his teeth, then sighed. "Listen, dude, I don't want to talk about this. Drop it, as a personal favor, okay?"

Adam nodded, turning to walk away, but turned back sharply. "Let me ask you something, and then I'll drop it."

Russell nodded.

"Is there, like...is there seriously something going on, here? Between you and Timmy?"

Russell shifted his eyes, feigning innocence. "Wwwhat do you mean?"

Adam hesitated. "Well, it's just...listen, Jen and I were talking. The other day things were kind of weird in the diner. And whenever Timmy's name comes up these last couple days you get super defensive. I'm not gonna say anything, dude, I swear. It's not a big deal. I've had my suspicions. I mean, Timmy has that accent."

"Uhm...he's British."

"Well, he's South African."

"Whatever."

"I mean, you guys do hang out together an awful lot, though. And not necessarily in a buddy-buddy kind of way."

"...What are you trying to say?"

Adam cleared his throat.

"It's just that you guys are married now, and if there were something going on between the two of you, me and Jen would totally understand. I mean, at first it was pretty weird, but we've gotten used to the idea. It's kind of gradually led up to it over time, and-"

Russell's reaction was a tad over-dramatic. "We're not gay for each other, dude! I'm totally straight! I love women, you know how much I love women! I LOVE boning hot chicks! Totally the opposite of gay!"

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't care if you were! Gay, bi, flexible, we're all just human!"

Russell turned from Adam in aggravation. "Uggggh, you and that hippie mom of yours..."

"You're my bro, I wouldn't care! Just think about that, okay? Just let that sink in. Let...that...sink...in." Adam smiled and turned to walk away. He looked back hesitantly. "I didn't mean for that to sound...like, super gay...or anything. I should probably just go, now."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Adam left, and Russell rushed back to his desk, collapsing into his chair and allowing his head to fall back hard before letting out a long moan. If Adam had somehow managed to figure it out, then everybody knew. Every. Body. Knew. Here he thought he was so slick, and everybody knew exactly what was going on.

And he still had no idea where Timmy was.

"Uggggh, this sucks."

He gently picked up his head and reached for Timmy's sweater under the desk, hesitated, and left it where it was. Where was he...?

He looked to the stacks of papers on his desk, began to reach for them...and set back instead to staring at the wall, swiveling in his chair.


	6. Fighting and Making Up

Adam had just awkwardly left Russell in his office when he passed Timmy walking into the lobby.

They both stopped short, looking to one another with a strange sort of knowing. Finally Adam tilted his head to the side with a soft smile.

"Hey, Timmy. I think Russell might have been looking for you."

"Oh, really?" As if he was somehow surprised in the least by this. "Well, I suppose I'm here now."

Adam rolled his tongue in his cheek, thinking. "Hey, uhm...listen, he's been acting really weird. I mean, weird for Russell. I'm going to say this as a friend. Because I care about both of you."

"Oh, here we go."

"No, seriously...Tim, I'm not always great with words, I mean, you know that. But here's what I do know...it was fate that that minister was in the hospital right when Jen and I needed him."

When Adam failed to continue, Timmy urged him on with a gesture of his hand. "Yes?"

"Well, you needed him too, right? Fate. I mean yeah, you wouldn't have needed to get married at all if Russell hadn't screwed up, but what were the chances of it working out, huh? For all of us? In the same night Jeff and Audrey have a baby, me and Jen finally get married, you get to stay in the country...and I dunno, what if Russell doing what he did, you losing your work visa, and that minister being in the hospital that night was all some bizarre twist of fate? What if there was some bigger reason for all of that happening?"

Adam placed a hand to Timmy's arm with a nod and a friendly smile. "Just a thought, Tim." He turned to walk away. "He's in his office, you should go talk to him."

Timmy stood in silent contemplation for a moment before continuing slowly towards Russell's door. Nobody was outside to stop him, and he hesitated before knocking. There was no reply.

"...Hello?"

Nothing.

"Russell...it's Timmy..."

He heard a faint scrambling from inside the office, and then nothing. He took the initiative in opening the door slowly and saw Russell sitting at his desk, as if busy as work. Something was wrong with this picture.

Russell looked up casually from his desk, then back down, scribbling on some random sheet of paper. "Oh, hey."

Timmy waited, and after receiving nothing further from Russell, furrowed his brow and spoke, trying to keep an even keel to his voice. "Really? That's all you're going to say to me? 'Oh, hey'?"

"Mm, well, seems we're mere acquaintances these days, don't say much to one another, 'oh, hey' seems about right. Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Patel, as you can see I have quite a bit of backlog and-"

"Okay, cut the crap."

Russell was caught a bit off guard and choked back a little, nodding. "Okay. Well, then, Mr. Patel, if we're going to use that kind of language, I'll have to kindly ask you to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, I came here to speak to you and I intend to do just that. I owe you an apology."

Russell seemed to mellow a little at this, dropping the fake writing act and crumpling the paper in front of him, tossing it casually over his shoulder. He let himself investigate Timmy, dressed casually, looking tired and soft around the edges. He felt the pangs of want for him and shoved them down. He looked down at his desk and spoke softly.

"Sooo...where've you been hanging out these days?"

"I was just...around. I had to think. I've been doing a lot of thinking. Yes, I know I keep saying that. I guess I'd like to know what's been on your mind, as well. So...here I am. Let's converse. I'm sorry I left, I told you I wouldn't and it was wrong of me. The fault is all mine, this time. Shall we try again?"

Russell looked to Timmy. He stood up carefully and walked several steps hesitantly forward.

"I want to know where you were." Russell shrugged. "I guess that's a little uber creep after the whole tracking your every move thing but, uh...I guess I just wanna know what the better option was."

Timmy nodded, letting out a deep breath. "I guess honesty is a good place to start. Uhm, I wasn't really sure what to do, I let my nerves get the better of me. I met a young lady in a bar, I know that's not the most sophisticated response given the situation, but..."

"You had sex with her?"

Timmy paused a moment, then gave a nod. "Well, yes."

Russell scoffed. "Really. You...had sex with her?"

"I...yes."

Russell was walking closer, growing tenser with each step. "Yeah, uhm...you...had _sex_ with her? You...left me...to pick up some random skank..." He was in Timmy's face, now. "... _To have SEX with her?!_ "

Timmy threw up his arms and turned around in exasperation before facing Russell again.

"Are you serious right now, Russell? Are we seriously having this conversation right now? I came to apologize! I had something of utmost importance to tell you and this is what you're choosing to say to me right now?"

Russell furrowed his brow. "How could you?"

Timmy was done. Gloves off.

"How could I? _How could I?_ Yes, God forbid I enjoy the company of a woman from time to time. How dare I spend some time with somebody other than a miserable little troll who treats me like a piece of dog shit he scraped off the bottom of his patent leather shoes he purchased from the boys' department! You with your whore of the day calendar, oh yes, you say you love me and you think I could love you back, but the only person who could ever love you charges by the hour!"

Russell stared at Timmy, jaw gaped. Timmy realized in this moment the cruelty of his tirade and was on the verge of an apology when Russell fought back.

"Oh, yeah? Yeah? Well, fuck you! Fuck you and the boat you rode in on! You know what, you made me a promise, you said a whole bunch of shit you didn't mean. You act like you're so sophisticated and so full of moral decency and you leave me to go sack some cheap bimbo? Listen here pal, you've got some nerve even showing up here after what you did to me. I have every right to never even speak to you again. I have every right to call up the proper authorities and tell them this marriage is a sham and have you deported tomorrow!"

"You wouldn't do that."

"Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me!" Timmy swearing was a serious thing. Russell knew this and was taken off guard by it. "You really think I'm about to buy that after all you've spewed at me these last few days? 'Ohhh, Timmy, I love you, I want to be with you, I've wanted to screw your brains out for blah blah blah blah blah-de-blah because I'm a psychotic closet homosexual', you really think you can back out of it now?!"

"When the hell did I-!" Russell mocked Timmy now, complete with over-exaggerated accent. "'Pip pip cheerio, I'm Timmy and you're creeping me out, oh oops you just gave me a blow job and I liked it!'"

"You didn't leave me much choice!"

"What, did I tie you to the bed? You wanted it! You liked it!"

Timmy stomped and spun around in frustration.

Russell grabbed Timmy's shoulders, forcing them face to face. "I was blowing up your phone! I was scared! You just left, you were there and then you were gone, what the hell happened?!"

"You were scared?! I was scared! Do you understand how fast all of this has happened? One day everything was normal and then suddenly everything was insane! Do you really think I wanted to spend the night having sex with some random woman I picked up in a bar, imagining I was having sex with you?!"

"Then why don't you just have sex with me?!"

The intensity of Timmy's kiss took Russell by surprise, and it took him a moment to return it in full force.

The men were instinctively moving back towards the desk and Russell was pinned a moment later, Timmy acting on sudden impulse. They attacked with an angry brute energy. They needed to get this out of their systems.

Breaking lips with heavy breaths they tore at clothes, kicked off shoes, unzipped pants and grabbed at exposed skin with itchy, wanting fingers. No more hesitating, no more talk.

Clothes gone, strewn in ransacked piles, they collapsed to the floor, where Russell pinned Timmy down and stripped him of his glasses, staring into his eyes. For a moment there was clarity, a feeling of skin on skin and acknowledgement of what was happening. And then, hesitation - this was still foreign territory.

Finally Russell grabbed Timmy's legs firmly and mounted. He led his fingers slowly along Timmy's cock.

"Trust me...it's okay..." He locked eyes. "You want it," he hissed out through his teeth, and allowed a finger to enter Timmy, who lurched sharply in response. He worked this for awhile until he felt Timmy start to relax just a little.

Russell hesitated briefly, then crawled over a ways and in a mild panic flew through the pile of clothes until he reached his suit pants, and pulled something from the pocket, a small bottle of lube. In a different situation Timmy would have been prepared to make a crack about this, about how obvious it was that he kept this so conveniently on the ready, but a moment later Russell was prepared and mounting him. He positioned himself and entered slowly, very slowly...

Timmy growled low in response; his eyes closed hard and he ground his nails against the floor as the pain hit, and finding this monumentally dissatisfying, pierced them firmly into Russell's hips.

Something snapped in Russell's brain. Where once there had been a hot, intense passion, he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. His voice eked out softly: "Timmy."

Timmy's eyes opened to look at Russell.

"Okay?"

"...Yes."

Russell went to work slowly at first, getting a feel for what he was doing, eliciting soft moans from Timmy. As soon as he had found a steady rhythm, they worked together, deeply feeling one another. Timmy placed a hand firmly over his mouth to keep himself quiet.

And for a time they stayed like this, one unit grinding on the floor, losing sense of time in this moment and feeling nothing but the sensations of one another's bodies as the intensity and speed of what they were doing built, Russell letting loose finally with a sound of release and collapsing with a shake. Timmy allowed Russell's hand to finish him off without much thought and for a moment they laid there, breathless and lost. Russell rolled from Timmy and laid apart from him aside from a hand on his arm, resting gently as if there by accident.

Neither man spoke for several minutes. No kissing, no signs of affection. Confused. Timmy stood finally on shaky legs and initiated the act of getting dressed.

Neither man spoke as they dressed themselves. At one point, Timmy struggled in finding his glasses, and Russell wordlessly handed them to him with no other exchange between them. When they were both clothed they walked and sat awkwardly on either side of the room, trying to act as if nothing had just happened. Russell at his desk, Timmy on the sofa, neither looking at one another.

Finally Timmy spoke, very softly, voice unsure of itself.

"If there's nothing further, I should be going."

"Didn't you, uh...want...talk about something?"

"Uhh...not...can't...remember."

These fragmented sentences weren't getting them anywhere, and Timmy stood, prepared to leave.

"Wait-"

Timmy turned hesitantly.

"You...you can't just leave every time it gets..." Russell searched for the right word, "...intense."

Timmy swallowed hard. His voice was practically a whisper. "What just happened here was..." He stopped himself. "You're at work. This is a place of work. Go home after work, I'll meet you there."

With this, Timmy left, and Russell found himself alone again.

And freak out mode set it.

"Oh my god, what just happened?" Russell cupped his face in his hands. "Ohhhh fuck, what was that?"

 _It's what you wanted._

"That doesn't mean I'm used to the idea! Oh my god, I just...ohhh, my god!"

 _You made love to him. You love him. There's nothing wrong with that._

"Yeah, but...it's...it's weird! And when did I start talking to myself?!"

 _He's coming over tonight. Everything is okay._

"Everything is okay. Then why doesn't it feel okay?"

 _It's new. It's different. You'll get used to it. You've been hiding a lot of things about yourself for a long time. Sometimes it takes awhile to figure out who you really are._

Russell grew calm somehow with this thought. He really didn't know who he was. He had spent most of his life directionless, relying on his parents, on cheap frivolities, on passing pleasures and money. He wasn't young. Whenever something good happened in his life, it seemed fleeting. For some reason, this wasn't so fleeting. Maybe he was less scared of being with a man, and more scared of truly being in love with somebody. Sex wasn't scary. Commitment was scary.

And he was figuring out who he was.

They'd talk tonight.

* * *

Timmy had stood in front of Russell's door for about five minutes now. He'd raised his hand to knock several times, and several times had reconsidered. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, he just knew that he couldn't take himself entering into another silent treatment, and he knew he could if he allowed himself. He felt guilty. He knew that he had treated Russell unfairly. Still, it had been well deserved, he told himself. Russell had done more than enough to warrant a few outbursts on Timmy's part. The reunion hadn't gone as expected. They'd behaved irrationally. They'd allowed some kind of angry, primal lust to take over and nothing had been resolved. What if the same thing happened again? What if nothing ever was resolved between the two of them, and it was forever these stupid mind games? Damn it, what was he standing here for, tormenting himself? Either knock on the door or walk away.

He turned to walk away.

And the door opened.

Russell and Timmy stood staring at one another. Neither one wanted to be the first to speak.

Instead, Russell settled on walking back inside the apartment, leaving the door open in invitation, expecting Timmy to follow him inside. Timmy hesitated, but followed. He closed the door behind him, and grabbed Russell firmly by the arm.

"Let me speak."

Russell whipped back to look at Timmy.

"Now, you listen here, Russell Dunbar. I'm sorry. I mean this sincerely, I shouldn't have done or said what I did, nor should you. Not just these last couple of days, but the past few years. There's a lot we need to work through. It's going to take time. Patience. Probably a shrink."

Russell nearly retreated at this, and Timmy pulled him back. "I'm sorry, I digress. As far as today's events, I..." There was a silent glance between them, a biting of lips, a mutual understanding that it not be spoken of in this moment. "Listen, Russell. I've come to a realization, and I need to just say this before I change my mind."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Something suddenly felt light between them, as if a million tons had been lifted. Russell's chest heaved a visible sigh of relief.

"I...I love you, and I want to make this work. When we're apart, when we're angry at one another, I mean angrier than usual, not on speaking terms, it...it irritates me somehow, it feels wrong, I need you around. It's inexplicable, but I mean this sincerely. When I was with that woman last night, there was this very strange disconnect I couldn't understand, but then it began to make sense to me. Please, Russell, let's discuss this, I'm the one asking now for you to just please hear me out."

"Okay. So, what changed?"

"I suppose I did. And maybe you did, a little."

Russell nodded. He brushed his hair gently away from his face, as if trying to look coy. "Can I kiss you now?"

Timmy nodded and Russell leaned in for a kiss. When he went a little too hard Timmy broke it.

"Whoa, steady, this is how it always starts, I need a little more dialogue first. Sit."

Russell looked mildly frustrated as they made their way to the sofa and he layed down, kicking his feet up onto Timmy's lap.

Russell sighed. "So, this marriage thing, then..."

"Well..." began Timmy, "despite the fact that I have no choice but to remain married to you or I'll be deported...let's give this a go, shall we? I mean, that is to say...I suppose we've been practically married for a good long while, as it were, anyway."

Russell allowed himself to smile a broad smile that showed his true emotions.

"But," continued Timmy, "We have to lay some groundwork here. We didn't exactly enter into this marriage the way one normally would. So we have to figure out how we're doing this. I hate to say this, but I'm not sure we can make this work if we attempt any kind of exclusivity."

"Oh..." Russell hadn't really been thinking about this. His smile dropped. "Oh, man. Like, not bang any girls?"

Timmy raised his eyebrows. "Yes, that. The very thing you got angry at me for."

Russell sneered. "Oh, crap."

"I suppose then we'll come back to that one?"

"Uh, yeah, let's."

"Our parents."

"Bang our parents?!"

"We've changed topics!"

Russell closed his eyes and hit his head back hard. "I'm sorry, I've got kind of a one track mind right now-"

"Always."

"-you can't really blame me, at the moment."

They exchanged another knowing look, and Timmy quickly diverted.

"Yes, granted. However, what I meant was, what will we tell our parents?"

"Well, I've thought about that...I mean hey, as little as they actually talk to me, I could avoid it for who knows how long."

"Are they homophobic?"

Russell hissed out through his teeth. "See, up until I kissed you, I'm pretty sure *I* was homophobic."

"Yes, willingly kissing a man is probably a fairly good way of breaking such a trait." He cleared his throat. "Never mind the other activities."

Russell spoke quickly, "Y'know, at some point we're gonna have to talk about-"

"Not yet."

"Okay."

"Back to parents."

"Yeeeah, well," continued Russell, not missing a beat. "My dad, he's uh...well, you know how macho he is. I've never been enough of a man for him, like, remember how much work we did on Liz to impress him, imagine what we'd have to do to you. Hey, dad, here's my new girlfriend, she has a dick but look how pretty she is! Yeah. My mom...well, she loves you. Like seriously, she talks about you."

Timmy half smiled. "Pray tell, what does she say?"

"She says you're really smart, that you're going places and uh- okay, she kind of called it."

"Called it?"

"She jokes every time she talks to me that I should just break the tension and have sex with you already. Except she's probably joking. I think."

Timmy leaned back on the sofa, placing a hand behind his head. "Yes, well, I suppose she'll be thrilled then that she won that little wager, ay?"

"Mm. She says you're good for me." Russell sighed. "Of course she probably only says that because you convinced her to cut me off. Living the peasant life."

"Sir- Russell. I did nothing of the- oh, never mind."

"What about your parents, they seem nice."

Timmy sighed a deep sigh. "They love you," he said flatly. "Because you manipulated them to."

"What? How?"

Timmy gave Russell a steady glare. "Are you quite serious? You showed up to dinner uninvited. You Wikipedia'd my native land in order to appear sensitive to my culture, you-"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. As far as a relationship however, I really don't know how I'll approach this topic. They expect me to marry a nice young Indian girl of my family's choosing, not an American albino man old enough to be my father."

Russell grimaced. "Dude! I'm not old enough to be your father!" He paused. "How old are you, anyway...?"

"I'm 29. You're nearing 50. You could easily be my father."

Russell's eyes went wide for a moment. "Wait, dude, seriously?"

"You date girls my age all the time! You think 16 is legal!"

Russell looked dazed and confused so Timmy decided to continue on the previous train of thought.

"Anyway, speaking of my family, I did speak with Simran very recently and-"

Russell interjected quickly. "I didn't have sex with your sister, I swear! I went to visit her, yeah. I tried, she wouldn't. Kissed her. A little over the shirt action, that's all. If you take me to family reunions it won't be weird. Well, not too weird. Might have felt a little nipple."

Timmy was sneering. "More than I wanted to know!" He tried to continue. "Oh, god. I really don't want to have this in common with my sister. Allow me a moment to try and forget that you made reference to my sister's nipple, please...but anyway, yes, she told me nothing really happened between the two of you. You surely remember that week after you visited her, I made your life a living hell, hers wasn't exactly sunshine and roses either, she came clean. My point is, she approves, for some reason. She, somehow, likes you as well. I don't know how you've won my family over, I somehow had more faith in them."

Russell raised an arm in protest. "Hey! What happened to all this 'oh, Russell, I love you, blah blah' stuff?"

"I'm also a realist, just because I've grown to care for you doesn't mean everyone should be so insane."

Russell accepted this as a backwards compliment and there was a moment of silence.

"...My sister's nipple, really, Russell."

"I'm sorry! At least I didn't mention her tongue!"

"RUSSELL!"

Russell threw his head back with laughter. "Dude, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll stop."

Timmy took a moment to stop fuming, rolled his eyes. "You make it awfully hard sometimes to remind myself why I'm still here."

"Uhh, I'm cute and adorable?"

Timmy looked at Russell with a tilt of his head. "Mm, no, don't think that's quite it."

"Uhm, I'm sweet and charming?"

"You might want to stop guessing."

"Well, listen, there has to be a reason, you're clearly here."

Timmy managed a smirk. "You want to know why?"

"Yeah, I really do. I've been trying to figure that out, dude. I haven't been doing much else."

"Yes, same here. And...well, I guess...you have a good heart. Somewhere. Deep inside. Say, when somebody hurts your feelings, past the biting sarcasm you tend to retreat into a shell as if somebody had just broken your favorite toy. At some point I guess you never really grew up. As if you were still a child."

"You...love me because I'm a child?"

"That didn't come out quite right. I mean to say, you have a certain innocence for which much of your behavior might be forgiven. And something Mrs. Bingham said to me gave me cause for reflection. She said something about the way you looked at me when you proposed marriage..."

Russell laughed nervously. "How did I look at you?"

"She said you looked sincere. When we were standing there in front of the minister...yes, you looked sincere. I've seen that look before. I'd never thought about it, but I've seen it many times. It's the look you give me often, whenever we're out together at some bar or event and I'm tailing you like some kind of puppy. You'll look back at me to make sure I'm still there, and over time it began to make me feel comfortable, and I wasn't sure why, but now I know. That look was one of genuine caring, of protection, of security... on the surface it once seemed demeaning, but on some level I guess I always knew that in fact you needed me more than you were letting on."

Russell slowly nodded.

"So...that's how I've come to understand you truly do love me, Russell. That look. And that's why I'm surrendering now to the fact that I love you in return. So I suppose...thank you for showing me what it's like. Being needed, being wanted. I've never really had somebody show me that before, and it took me awhile to recognize it for what it was."

Smiles.

Timmy nudged Russell's leg gently with his hand. "You know, in all this time, you still haven't told me why you've pursued this. Well, this being me. I'd sort of like to know."

Russell sighed heavily. "I wish I had a reason, Tim. I wish I had more to say. I know that sounds stupid and shallow, I know when you fall for somebody you're supposed to have some long list of reasons why, but I don't know. I've never been good with reasons, you know my beat with women isn't usually more than wham bam, even ones I actually dig, I always manage to scoot just past the reasons into bed and screw that up somehow-" a nervous, confused laugh. "-I really don't know what the hell I'm doing. You're sitting here spouting off all these words, and I suck with words. Maybe give me a little time with the words."

"Fair enough."

"So..." queried Russell, "How do we tell everybody?"

Timmy groaned. "I'm not sure I want to, but I suppose we have to."

"I like PDA."

"Oh, sir, please."

"Keep accidentally calling me sir, it turns me on."

With that Timmy shoved Russell's legs off of his lap to the floor and Russell laughed again. "Wha-a-a-t! Just being honest!"

Timmy gave Russell a gentle smile. "You're an idiot."

"Hey."

"Just being honest."

They kissed. And it felt right.


	7. Everybody Knows

Something about this morning felt particularly peaceful. Russell had woken up earlier than usual to find Timmy sprawled out next to him in bed, over the covers, where they had fallen asleep casually chatting the night before. He smiled to himself and ran a hand softly through Timmy's hair. Yep, he was really here.

Timmy stirred, eyes fluttering gently. "What time is it?"

"6 or something, too early, go back to sleep."

"Mm, no, I need to get up, I missed work yesterday, I was late another day from all this. I'm not setting a good precedent. I need to get home and dressed..."

"If you were still working for me, I wouldn't care."

"I'm not, though."

"You could be."

"Conflict of interest, don't you think?" Timmy's voice came out groggy, half asleep. "Also, a spouse is the person you're supposed to come home and complain about your horrible boss to. Am I to complain to you about yourself?"

Russell backhanded Timmy gently on the arm. "Well, if you're getting up, then get up."

Timmy groaned gently and felt for his glasses haphazardly until Russell leaned across to the nightstand and handed them to him.

"Thank you." Having clear vision, Timmy looked to Russell and gave a faint smile. "Well, then."

A smile back. "Yeah. Well, then."

"I guess this is a real thing now."

"I guess so, yeah."

Timmy sat on the edge of the bed, finding his shoes and setting to putting them on. "I should tell you something I failed to mention last night..."

"Why does that freak me out...?"

Timmy twisted swiftly to look at Russell. "No, nothing serious, but uhm...Mrs. Bingham knows. I sort of had a heart to heart with her before coming to see you yesterday. And I would suppose, in hindsight, despite her promises to the contrary, that she's ensured Mr. Bingham knows as well."

Russell threw back his head. "Ohhhhh, crap."

"Well, Russell, I mean, he was going to find out sooner or later."

"Yeah, but I was kind of hoping for later, I mean..." He sneered. "Well, Adam and Jen know, too."

"What?"

"Adam cornered me yesterday, right before you showed up, he acted like he knew what was going on."

"Yes...he spoke to me briefly as well yesterday and sounded as if he might be on to us."

"So they all know. Who doesn't know? I mean, in the circle?"

Timmy thought. He tilted his head with a sigh. "Liz?"

Russell made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. "Oh, god, no, puke, Liz can't know about this. After all the crap she put us through, imagine what she'll say." He halted, his jaw dropping in an exaggerated fashion. "Oh my god, that's it! She turned us both gay!"

Timmy stared blankly until Russell backed down with a mild sneer.

"Liz did not turn us both-" Timmy paused a moment, thinking. "No, no, she didn't. And regardless, this isn't the sort of thing we can selectively keep secret. If we're out, we're out. So are we out?"

Russell furrowed his brow heavily. "Yeah, I don't know. "

"Listen, I'm not exactly jumping at the bit to tell everybody about this, but seeing as we've not done a very good job so far at keeping it a secret, I think it best we come clean and get it over with before others do it for us."

"Saturday."

"What?"

"The photo shoot on Saturday, that stupid thing Audrey's doing, the six of us'll be there. That's in like three days."

"That's the day after tomorrow."

"What, seriously!?"

"I don't blame you for being confused, this week has been confusing."

"Fine, two days. Give me two more days to get used to this."

"You married me, how much more used to this can you get?"

Russell groaned, searching for the words. "Come on, Timmy. They know I married you so you could stay in the country. They don't know I fucked you."

Timmy quickly averted his gaze. "Yes, point taken."

Russell took a few moments to look around the room at nothing. They still weren't talking about what happened in the office yesterday. Maybe, they figured, they could just avoid talking about it forever if they played this right.

Timmy had finished with his shoes and stood up, checking his pockets to ensure he wasn't missing anything. "I'll freshen up and I should go."

Russell's eyes scanned Timmy as he walked across the room and entered the bathroom, and he spoke as Timmy went about his business.

"So, I'll see you after work?"

"I think I should go home after work, and so should you. This has been a tiring few days, I need a breather, we can't really do this shuffle daily."

"Used to see each other every day."

"When we were working together it was more convenient, I'm afraid."

Russell tried to search his brain rapidly for a solution to this. "So bring your stuff over here. I've got room, my place is better than your little crap shack anyway and you'll save on rent, you're making less money now, you need to cut back."

"Making considerably more, and I already said I can't just move, that's not going to happen."

"We can't just never see each other."

"Let me figure it out."

"Well, you're still gonna be at the diner, right?"

A flush, a sink running, and Timmy resurfacing. "If we're avoiding going public, the diner might not be the safest place for the next few days. We'll need to lay low."

"But Jeff and Audrey have that baby now, they'll probably barely even be there."

"Adam and Jennifer surely will, and the one brief encounter we had with them already felt awkward enough."

"So you're saying, like, just not see each other until the shoot?"

"That may be the only solution right now. It's only a couple of days."

"I'm just not used to not hanging out. I get a little weird, I guess."

"I'm aware of that. The few times I've gone out of town you've taken to pretending a potted plant was me."

"One time, I did that!"

"And it died. And now we're married. I should be fearing for my life."

"Hey hey hey, I'll water you daily, you just have to remind me once in awhile. How am I supposed to remember to take care of something that can't talk?"

"And with that we establish no pets or children," Timmy remarked with more than a hint of sarcasm as he walked past Russell, checking the nightstand perimeter for the last of his things.

Russell inched up behind him, grabbing his waist. "And by water you daily, I do mean-"

Timmy pulled free. "And on that charming note, I'm off."

Russell followed Timmy's pace to the door with a laugh. "Dude, you know I'm kidding."

Timmy turned suit and met Russell with a gentle smile. "I'll call after work. We'll figure everything out, I promise." He offered a quick kiss, which Russell ensured lasted just a touch longer than intended.

Russell hit Timmy gently on the cheek. "You call me. I love you."

"I love you too, sir."

* * *

Jen and Adam were alone at the diner. It had been like this for a couple of days now, and they had been remarking on how strange this was.

"Yeah, once in awhile sure, but every day is kind of weird," noted Adam.

"Well, Jeff and Audrey are so busy. I guess if we ever have kids we'll know what that's like. But Audrey said they might start coming back around after a while, once they're in the swing of things with Shea. Just little outings, stuff like that. I guess we should have expected the group to sort of pull apart once the baby came."

"Somehow I guess I didn't think it would all actually happen. I mean, I knew it would, we've been waiting for Brenda to have the baby and we've been planning the wedding forever, but then it all happens and everything changes. Circle of life. It moves us all..."

"Babe, I swear if you start singing Disney songs, I'm leaving the table."

Adam sunk down a little in his seat.

"And what about Russell, did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, that was weird though."

"Like what kind of weird?"

"Like...I think you're right, weird. Something's up. I saw Timmy, he was going to talk to him. I don't think we're gonna see them for awhile."

Jen sniggered softly. "Like, they're too busy doing it?"

Adam almost laughed but then his face went serious. "No, like I think they might have been fighting, Russell seemed really tense about everything."

"Oh...y'know, if we're going to talk to either of them about this, maybe it's Timmy we should be talking to. Russell always gets a little weird when he's dealing with a love crisis. And that's when it's a normal love crisis, and this isn't exactly normal."

"Yeah, I'm a little worried. I know Russell pretty well and something tells me that realizing something like this about himself this late in life could probably cause a meltdown of catastrophic proportions. I mean, he's devoted his whole life to pursuing women, I mean, his whole life, this could crush him if not handled delicately."

"Are we playing psychologist now?"

"All I'm saying is, Timmy's a nice guy and everything, but Russell...well, he's Russell."

"I don't really understand any of this," said Jen. "This is like a weird sci-fi movie or something. 'In a world where posh young assistants and their satanic bosses collide phallically'-"

A new voice: "May I speak with the two of you, confidentially?"

Jen and Adam looked up to see Timmy hovering over the table, and they nodded in embarrassment as he slipped into the other side of the booth.

"I shouldn't even be here, I went on a whole shpiel with Russell about not coming here for this very reason, but I couldn't help overhearing the not so quiet conversation about my personal affairs."

Jen scrunched up her face awkwardly. "I'm so sorry Timmy, you deserve a lot better than idle gossip."

"No, really, I understand. This situation is a difficult one to know how to approach, and it's coming from a place of genuine caring, I'm sure. But...well, Russell isn't ready to deal with this publicly and frankly, neither am I, but I can see it's already being dealt with by everybody else. So...when you see him next if you could just not let on so strongly that you know. I mean, we're aware that you know, but if we could have a little time. We're going to come clean soon and if you could simply let us handle this in our own way..."

"Absolutely," agreed Jen. "You've got it."

Timmy smiled warmly. "Thank you." He started to get up before Jennifer spoke again.

"Timmy, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Why? I mean, why Russell? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have even asked that..."

Timmy sighed and nodded. "No, quite alright, uhm...might I instead reflect a question back?"

"Shoot."

"Why Adam?"

"Because...well..." She looked to Adam in contemplation. "Because he's..." Then to Timmy. "Okay, fair enough. But...Russell?"

"If I could honestly answer that question, my life would make a lot more sense right now. All I know is that I've been in this city for nearing five years, and most of that time has been under Mr. Dunbar."

An awkward look amongst the table.

"That was a terrible choice of words, but you know what I mean. And...listen, when you spend as much time with somebody as I've spent with Russell...and as intimately as I have been forced to...sometimes, you become friends. He's my friend. He cares for me. And I suppose by and by that turned into something else. I can't really explain it any better than that. Isn't that really all the explanation necessary? Isn't that what we all want?"

Jen and Adam stared silently and nodded. Timmy stood with a nod and a smile as he left and Jen and Adam looked to one another, feeling a little badly about themselves.

"Man," said Jen finally, "I'm not sure Russell deserves him."

Adam shrugged. "Maybe not. I don't know. But I know I didn't deserve you, and I got you anyway. The idiots always find the good ones eventually."

"Awh, Adam..." Jen kissed Adam on the cheek and nestled into his shoulder.

"So, I was thinking that for the big family wedding I'd go on Craigslist and rent Mambo some parrot friends, you know, like best-bird-men?"

Jen heaved a sigh. "You really are an idiot. But I love you."

* * *

Jeff and Audrey hadn't been out since Shea had arrived. They were in the baby bubble, and they didn't really want to burst it. The baby bubble being the place where nothing truly mattered but the baby - you forgot the outside world in those moments, and everything else disappeared. Jeff was getting a little antsy for outside human interaction, but he hadn't realized just how comfortable the baby bubble would be, and they'd cemented themselves firmly within it this past week.

The baby had gone magically to sleep around an hour ago and the couple had managed to eat a great meal of frozen tv dinners that tasted like cardboard. Now Audrey was back to talking about that stupid photo thing.

"And Francois should be there at 5 to shart shooting."

"Shoot me first," muttered Jeff.

"What's that?"

"Sounds excellent!"

She reached for her purse on the sofa. "So Francois' card is in the front pocket of my purse in case you need anything at all from him-"

"Wait a minute, Francois?"

"...Yes."

"A photographer named Francois. This just keeps getting fruitier and fruitier."

Audrey tossed her purse firmly back onto the sofa. "Oh, okay, now, y'know, Jeff, we should really talk about this."

"About what?"

"About your homophobia."

"About my what?!"

"Now, listen, we have a handful of very dear LGBT friends and I don't think going around using terms like 'fruity' at the first sign of every Frenchly-named photographer is doing their cause any favors!"

"Ah crap, I said one little...who got you on this, huh? Are we on this PC kick again?"

"No, I was just thinking that-"

"You just said 'LGBT'! And for god sake Audrey, we have two gay friends, me and Brad have been cool for years and Brenda just shoved out our kid so pretty sure I'm good with that, and that hardly constitutes a handful."

"We know a...few," Audrey grabbed her purse. "So tired, let's get to bed."

Jeff looked to Audrey suspiciously, annoyance turning to curiosity.

"Auuuudrey."

"Hm?" Innocently rummaging through her purse for an imaginary item.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Audrey rummaged a bit slower and finally settled on pulling out a box of Tic-Tacs.

"Minty fresh," she said, as if having just one-upped him.

He looked at her stony-eyes. "You popped a mint after we ate our crappy tv dinners."

Audrey darted eyes, looking for a way out.

"You know I'll break you woman."

Audrey ground her teeth and grumbled. "Okay, okay, but you have to absolutely unequivocally not let on that I told you, I gave my word."

"Yeah, yeah, been there, done that, carry on."

"Russell and Timmy."

Jeff motioned for her to continue. "Yeah?"

"Well...Jeff, it's serious. I mean, more than just us joking about it behind their backs and a sham wedding making it easier for us to joke about it behind their backs."

Jeff furrowed his brow. "Wait like...like serious, serious? So when I said they were legally gay..."

"They are legally gay, yes, Jeff."

"How the hell would you know this, are you hiding in their bedrooms or something, I haven't seen hide or hair of those guys for days."

Audrey began to look around nervously again. "Timmy...may have...come over...to speak with me."

"With you? Why the hell would he do that?"

"I'm a people person!"

Jeff ignored this. "And he fessed up to it? Why would he want to fess up to it?" He put up a hand. "Before you call me homophobic again, I mean doing stuff with Russell, why the hell anybody ever wants to fess up to that I'll never know."

"Oh come on, you enjoy detailed accounts of his bachelor life sexcapades."

"Not...with Timmy! Oh, God, doesn't this conversation make you as nauseous as it makes me?"

Audrey sat down. "It did, but I'm starting to get my sea legs. Maybe it's good that I told you, so you can get yours before you're face to face with Russell. I know this is...insane, but we should support Russell in this. Timmy's good for him."

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck, his face distorting awkwardly.

"And you know he's a good guy, Jeff, and smart, he's got his head in a good place, Russell sure as hell never knows what he's doing but I think Timmy does and if this is what they're doing now then I have faith in that and so should we." He didn't answer, face still distorted awkwardly. "Jeff? ...Jeff?"

"Who do you think's on top?"

"Jeff!"

"I mean, how does this work exactly? Ah, god, Audrey, you've got me picturing this now, and right before bed, I'm gonna dream about Russell and Timmy doing stuff, why would you do that, huh?"

Audrey stood and started her way to the bedroom.

"Very sensitive, Jeff."

"What? Come on, you can't tell me you haven't thought about this."

"So empathetic, so in touch with your feelings."

"There you go, getting all fruity again."

Closing the bedroom door behind her.

Well, at least Jeff wasn't too torn up by the whole thing.

* * *

This evening was calm, but both Russell and Timmy felt an undeniable unease from their respective apartments. A slight pull, as if they should be together, but they weren't about to admit it to one another. They both were in bed. Everything was the same as it ever was, but everything felt different.

Timmy called Russell, as promised.

"How was work?" asked Timmy. Boring, safe question.

"Lame. How's the new job treating ya?"

"Quite well actually, I think I may be promoted fairly soon if things keep going the way they are."

"Geez, you've been there like two weeks."

"Mm, yes, I know. I was with you how long?"

Russell chose to change topics. "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Work, home, question life choices, same as usual."

"This is just about the most exciting conversation I've ever had."

"Well, we saw each other this morning, not much to report, I'm afraid. Welcome to married life."

"Yeah..."

Silence. Awkward phone silence.

Russell: "Ever had phone sex?"

"Don't intend to start."

"What are you wearing?"

"Goodnight, Russell."

"Kidding, geez, don't hang up! God, you're so touchy."

Timmy fidgeted in bed. "It's strange, I sort of wish..." His voice trailed off.

"What do you wish?"

"Nothing. I don't know. I have an early morning, I really don't mean to cut this off, but..."

"So I won't see you tomorrow?"

"Day after tomorrow. I think we can handle one day."

"Yeah, okay. This is...this is weird."

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, so...doot doot doot."

"Yes, well..."

More awkward silence.

"Okay, Timmy, you...get some sleep, then. I, uh..." Russell bit a lip, clicked his tongue. Why was this so hard over the phone? "I guess...I love you."

Timmy paused for almost too long, making Russell nervous. Finally: "I love you too, sir."

Timmy would make a habit of saying it this way. It would make strangers look at them uncomfortably, but it stuck.

With the call ended, both men took to sleeping, though neither really slept well. They wouldn't last long this way, they both knew it, but it would take awhile longer to admit it to themselves.


	8. Russell Panics

The next day, Timmy went to work at 7 am. Russell went to work at noon.

Timmy spent his break time researching the verification process for green card marriages. This was a mistake, as he was now more sure than ever that upon any kind of interview, he'd be assuredly called out for entering into a sham marriage and deported immediately. Regardless of whatever kind of relationship they were building now, and regardless of how long they'd known each other, Russell knew next to nothing about him, and they'd not had a formal wedding...a spur of the moment hospital ceremony looked more than a little suspicious. This would never work. He had set about making flash cards with facts about himself using the sample interview questions he'd found online in the hopes of quizzing Russell later and maybe having a shot at making this work. He felt ridiculous doing this, but it was the only thing he could think to do.

He began quizzing Russell throughout the day: _When is my birthday?_

To which Russell replied back: _You don't even know when your own birthday is_?

"Stupid question."

Other questions were more complicated and involved their day to day life together; something that didn't exist. Who gets up first, who does the cleaning, who does the cooking? This pushed all of Timmy's anxiety buttons. Perhaps they could concoct answers for all of these things and keep up this facade for a little while and pass as a couple - wait, yes, they _were_ a couple now, weren't they? Good lord, they were. Were these questions that would one day have answers? Well, surely he'd get up first, he'd do the cleaning and the cooking...

"Oh. I'm the wife," bemoaned Timmy.

More questions: Who sleeps on each side of the bed? Have you ever had an argument that resulted in one of you sleeping in another room?

Suddenly his body recalled sleeping in Russell's bed, and the common pinpricks in each nerve set afire. He closed shop on this scenario, and set to thinking of how common a situation it would be - arguments, sleeping in separate rooms; they could barely get along sharing an office space separated by a door, how were they supposed to share a bedroom, a home, a life together? His head was spinning.

* * *

Across town, Russell was using his spare time - which was all of it - to panic. Now that the dust was settling, now that Timmy had somehow magically decided to stick around with him, to _be_ with him, he was getting scared. As a distraction he'd taken to flipping through his little black books, reminiscing, chuckling knowingly at each name.

"Helen - she was _Helen_ bed, all right. Mm. Rhoda...yeah, I sure _Rhoda_ all night long. Heh!" He chuckled, looking around, and groused at the realization that nobody was there to hear his hilarious sex puns.

He contemplated calling any of the random numbers he landed on, going so far as to pick up the phone a number of times when he found a prospect particularly titillating. He kept reminding himself that he'd be doing the very thing he'd gotten so angry at Timmy for...and why? Why get mad at Timmy for sleeping with some random, inconsequential woman? Jealous, possessive. He didn't like feeling this way. His brain was starting to break in two directions: "I miss Timmy, I wish I was with Timmy right now" and "I'm terrified of Timmy, I have to get as far away from Timmy as possible" - and something was about to give.

A knock on the door. "Yeah?" The new assistant made his way in with a file folder. Russell leaned on his hand, uninterested.

"Those papers on the Anderson account. Oh, and Thompson called back again and wants to know if you got those emails with last month's reports on-"

"Hm? What's that, Kevin?"

"Mr. Dunbar, for the last time, my name is Edward."

Russell shook his head. "...Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure I hired a Kevin."

"I know my own name!"

"Geez, touch-y! Somebody line that wheelchair of yours with spikes or something before you sat down this morning, is that the problem? You're sounding a little butthurt."

"Okay, that does it. This has been the worst week of my professional life, I have been belittled, insulted, ignored, and I'm not going to put up with this a minute longer, and you'd better believe me when I tell you, Mr. Dunbar, that I'm reporting you to corporate!"

Russell sneered. "Wait, seriously...?"

"Yes, Mr. Dunbar, seriously."

"Well, have fun with that one, wheels, like that ship hasn't sailed before."

"I'll just cite the list of ridiculous requests you've handed me all week."

"Ridiculous requests?! Like what! Name one ridiculous request!"

"You told me to dress up as Professor X and refer to you each day as a different member of the X-Men."

"Ha!"

Edward was less amused.

"Oh come on, it was either that or...who's the smart robot guy?"

"...Stephen Hawking."

"Yeah, and I mean I can't afford that kind of technology, I mean you could fake the little voice. Hey, try it, that might be funny!"

"...No."

"I mean, we could have gone with Eisenhower, but really, politics in the workplace?" He hissed. "Touchy subject, that can get people all 'offended'."

Russell was staring at the most deadpan, unimpressed face he'd ever seen.

"What...?"

"I'm not a prop!"

"Wha-a-at?! I'm not treating you like a prop!"

"I thought this was why your last assistant quit until I heard the two of you screwing around in here on company time, should I mention that to corporate, too?! God, you're one sick bastard, there's something seriously wrong with you!" He turned, wheeling away.

"I'll have you know I used Timmy as a prop all the time! Timmy was a better prop than you could ever be!"

"Yeah, I know what kind of prop you used him as."

"You're just in a wheelchair, that guy's foreign _and_ posh, double whammy buddy, jokes galore, I kept 'em coming, lighten up, you just don't know how to take it! He never reported me to corporate like some little-" Door closed. "Like some little..." Russell's voice went soft. "Like some little prop."

A text came in on his phone. Timmy.

 _What kind of toothpaste do you use?_

Russell looked to his phone in confusion and typed back simply: _wtf?_

 _I'm sorry. No more stupid questions. I'll leave you to your work._ As soon as Timmy had sent the message he rolled his eyes and smirked gingerly. "Hm, yes. I'm sure he's hard at work."

Russell was stoic, lost in quiet contemplation. A prop. He looked back over at his book of girls' names, then to the phone with Timmy's name emblazoned at the top of the text stream. He texted back: _What's up?_

Timmy was pleasantly surprised at a genuine prompt for conversation.

 _Not much. I'm trying to figure out this whole green card marriage thing. I'm growing nervous. That's what all the random questions were, I'm sorry for that, I must have looked like I was losing my mind a little. I hope you're doing okay, it's strange to hear so little from you when we're in the same city. Perhaps we can speak more after work. I almost hate to admit it but I enjoyed the time we spent together at your apartment. I'd not be opposed to more of it._

He sent the text nervously, awaiting a reply. It took Russell a good five minutes, and all that came back was: _That's nice._

Timmy put his phone away.

* * *

After the work day, the men spoke little to one another; Timmy still focused on logistics and how they would make this work, Russell still coming out from the cloud he'd been hiding in and losing his sense of self. As evening came on, Timmy grew more concerned with the fact that they had barely spoken aside from his random quizzing, and feeling strangely about this, called Russell.

"Are you alright?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"It's just I haven't heard much from you today and I was a little concerned..."

"I texted you."

"You said 'what's up' and when I responded you said 'that's nice' and nothing else. Is something wrong?"

Russell was quiet for a little too long.

"Something's wrong, what is it?"

"I don't know, Tim, I'm just, uh...what time tomorrow?"

"Mrs. Bingham wants us there at four but I thought maybe I'd see you in the morning..."

"Sure, yeah, where?"

"I'll get ahold of you and we'll figure it out."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Are you sure you're okay? I'm sorry we haven't really been in touch, I know you were uncomfortable with that and-"

"It's okay. It's fine. Listen, I can't talk much right now, I'm sorry, it's not...it's not you or anything, I'm...I'm spastic right now, it's weird, I've got some kind of issue, I can't explain it, I need...I need to...Timmy, I'm sorry."

The line went dead and Timmy stared at his phone anxiously for a bit too long. He was worried about Russell, but was growing increasingly more anxious for himself; his livelihood was entirely dependant on this man, this singular human being held his future in his hands and he was counting on him. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life. If Russell quit on him now, it was less a matter of broken hearts and more a matter of his financial future and the independence he had built for himself. Maybe he was crazy for caring about this person in this moment, for wanting to be near him, because classic Russell Dunbar was threatening to seep out, just as Timmy had predicted. He grabbed the flash cards he'd made during the work day, fingering through them.

He landed on one that read: What do the two of you have in common?

"Good lord, what have I done?"

They didn't speak for the rest of the evening. They both tried to carry on with their normal lives as though nothing was really happening, pretending for a moment, unconsciously perhaps, as though there was no "Russell & Timmy" - just to see how it felt for a moment, trying to remember. There was no phone call good night, and both of them were laying in bed trying to sleep when Timmy's phone received a welcome text message.

 _sorry...see you tomorrow...love you_

Timmy felt relieved and happier than he could have anticipated, with this.

 _Everything's fine. I'll text you in the morning. I love you too, sir._

* * *

Russell was still acting weird the next day. Timmy had texted several times and, when this failed, had tried calling. Upon being sent to voicemail he knew something was wrong.

In a final act of desperation he went over to Russell's apartment. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. He was starting to grow worried, when finally the door opened and Russell appeared with a blank expression.

"Where on earth have you been, I've been trying to reach you, have you any idea what time it is?"

"Cool your jets," Russell said a little too casually as he made his way back inside.

Timmy followed him. "It's one, Mrs. Bingham wants everybody there by four and I've been trying to get ahold of you all day."

"Yeah, Mr. Desperado, I know, lay off the phone, already."

Timmy stood unable to move for a moment, shocked. "Wh-what?"

"I said I know, you're driving me nuts, how about a little me time, geez. How long is this thing gonna take, anyway? I've got a date tonight."

"Excuse me, you've got what tonight...?"

"A date, Timmy. I'm married, not dead. Not like this is a real marriage, anyway. Howsabout you stop trying to make this more than what it is, huh? Cut and dry, buddy, simple little deal, you get what you need and we go our separate ways, just like you wanted."

Timmy was almost too stunned to react, but found it in himself to march straight to Russell and spin him around, gripping his arms a little too tightly. "Okay, I don't know what this is, but I'll not stand for it. What...the...hell...is...your...problem?"

For a moment Russell allowed his face to melt, to show his true feelings, and he looked sad and confused. He shook it off quickly, along with Timmy.

His voice remained melancholy, however. "No problem. Everything's cool." He turned away. "I'll be there, okay, just...just go."

Timmy wasn't prepared to leave. "I'd like to know what happened within the last two days to make you act this way. Have you any idea what it took for me to say the things I said to you when I saw you last? And now you're acting this way? Are you serious? Do you honestly think I can't see through your nonsense?"

Russell spun back around. "Just go!"

Timmy turned to walk away, and Russell quickly amended his previous statement.

"No, wait. Wait." He approached Timmy quickly, facing him, hugging him awkwardly. Timmy stood firm, arms at his sides and confused in the embrace. "I'll be there, when, four? I'll be there, it's all cool, we're cool, are we cool?" He pulled back, looking at Timmy. "We're okay?"

Timmy's brain was trying to catch up to Russell's onslaught of affection.

"Timmy? We're okay?"

"We're...yes. Okay. Have you been drinking?"

"What? No. Maybe. A little. Tim?"

"What...?"

"We're cool?"

"Yes."

At this Russell hugged Timmy again. His grip was tightening.

Timmy sighed heavily. "Russell? Russell, you can let go now. We're...we're fine. We're cool. We're just peachy keen, Russell. I think you're crushing my kidney."

"You have two of them. And if you ever need an extra one we're good, I've got one on stand-by. I'd go under a knife for you, Tim, I'd give you a kidney."

"Russell, please let go of me."

He finally released his grip.

Timmy placed a hand to either side of Russell's face, staring him down. "Listen to me and listen very carefully."

"Okay..."

"Mrs. Bingham wants us there by four o'clock."

"Four o'clock."

"So you will be there when?"

"Four o'clock."

"Very good."

"Timmy?"

"What?"

"Get your hands off of my face."

Timmy let go. "A moment ago you had me in a death grip and now you're offended by me touching your face?"

"I know I'm irresistible, Timmy, but you can't just sneak on over here for afternoon delights whenever you please, I'm a human being, show a little sensitivity!"

Timmy, feeling the aggravation building in his body, began walking carefully to the door. "Fine. I'm leaving now. I'll see you in a few hours, yes?"

Russell nodded. "Sure, whatever, don't get your panties in a bunch."

Timmy couldn't bring himself to leave yet. He found himself staring at Russell, confused, trying to pin down what was happening. "Yes, well. Maybe when I see you later today you'll be back to the Russell Dunbar I've so stupidly allowed myself to grow closer to these last few days."

Russell shrugged, trying to not look directly at Timmy.

"You know, the one who slept in that bed with me just down the hall...sensitive and kind for a change, willing to show me a different person. What's happened? You can talk to me. I'm quite sure I shouldn't even be so generous as to make that offer."

"...There's nothing to talk about."

Timmy, despite thinking better of it, walked back up to Russell. His voice was soft and deliberate. "I'm giving you a chance, because I'm an idiot and for some god forsaken reason I told you I love you and I meant it." A deep breath. "But so help me, Russell, if you fuck this up for me and I'm somehow deported, you and I both know that's the end of this." Their eyes met. Piercing. "Don't fuck this up."

Russell's voice was firm now, serious. "I won't. You can trust me. I'm not losing you again."

Timmy turned away with a nod. "Four o'clock."

"I'll be there."

* * *

The studio Audrey had chosen was a weird amalgamation of 'cutesy family in a shopping mall' and

'brooding artist trying to make a statement' - there were backdrops lined up against walls depicting random scenes of beaches, castles, rock concerts, political rallies, and for some reason, funerals. Scattered props of teddy bears, swords, lightsabers, chains and whips.

Timmy stood in confused awe for a moment until Audrey called to him.

"Timmy! Over here!" He walked his way towards Jeff and Audrey, baby beside them sleeping peacefully in her stroller, as they examined an old-timey prison scene.

Jeff looked less than impressed.

"How much are we paying this guy?"

"I heard he's good," muttered Audrey. "He's...up and coming."

"We couldn't have gone to Sears?"

"He's an artist, Jeff!"

Timmy chimed in, "This does appear a tad insane, Mrs. Bingham. As if perhaps we'd just walked into a fun fair being held in a serial killer's basement."

Jeff motioned to Timmy in victory.

Audrey nodded. "Okay, it's...it's a little weird, but he came highly recommended and there's...there's some normal backdrops over there, I think we'll be fine and if we do want to have a little fun with it some...some of these aren't too weird, the beach one isn't so crazy."

Jeff sneered, "All of us in bathing suits, Audrey, are you nuts? Even if we weren't all sacks of lard, do we look tan enough for the beach?"

Audrey and Jeff slowly looked back to Timmy.

"Okay, you'd pass," offered Jeff.

"Mm." Timmy nodded. "So no on theme pictures, then."

Audrey realized something. "...Did you call me a sack of lard?"

Jeff's eyes widened and he looked for a diversion. "Hey, how about that weird flying carpety Aladdin looking thing over there? Timmy?"

"Right, so no theme pictures then. Where are the newlyweds?"

Audrey had been successfully distracted. "They're on their way. Where's Russell?"

"He said he would be here. Which means...precisely nothing, so excuse me, I'm going to go make a call."

As Timmy was walking away, Jeff spoke.

"Definitely bottom."

Timmy had heard the comment.

"...Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Confused, Timmy continued slowly walking away.

Audrey elbowed Jeff in the ribs. "What the hell, Jeff!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think he could hear me!" He lowered his voice. "...He's wearing an argyle sweater vest."

"Oh, come on Jeff, Timmy looks very nice!"

"You're making my point for me!"

* * *

Timmy was pacing the hall just outside the studio; he had tried calling Russell, to no avail, and was beginning to feel mild panic set in, when Adam and Jen strolled up to him.

Jen immediately noticed his expression. "Hey, Timmy! Everything okay, where's the lesser half?"

Timmy forced a smile. "Yes, everything's fine, just...you know. Fashionably late and what not."

"Plenty of time," said Adam. He wrung his hands nervously. "Listen, uhm...we're really sorry for the other day, we-"

"No, it's quite alright, really."

"No, it isn't," said Jen. "Timmy. I lost sight for a minute of the fact that you're my friend and what you're going through must be really complicated and I'm sorry about that. Like I said before, you deserve better than gossip. Really, I'm sorry."

Timmy forgot for a moment to panic, genuinely touched by Jen's apology. "Oh. Thank you, Jennifer...sincerely, you have no idea. I needed to hear that."

"I know this is super weird, like, I've known you for a long time and we've never really hung out or gotten to know each other all that well, but I think we're sort of stuck with each other, so...hug? Friends?"

Timmy nodded with a smile and hugged Jen. He hadn't realized just how much he had needed this right now, a genuine reassuring hug from a friend. Adam followed suit, and for a moment the three of them were joined in a group hug, only slightly awkward. As the hug broke and Adam and Jen walked away from Timmy with a wave as they entered the studio, the good feeling started to fade and Timmy began to worry again.

He realized finally that he was less concerned about Russell's actions - being late, not answering calls - and more worried for Russell; something was wrong with him, he was clearly upset, and where in the past this would have been of little concern to Timmy aside from how he was forced to navigate the work day, it now left him with a strange desire to somehow fix the situation, to _make Russell feel better_. And yet he still felt the familiar pangs of annoyance growing the longer it went without returned contact.

So when a few minutes later Russell came walking down the hall, head down, looking full of attitude, Timmy was not impressed.

"Are you alright? I tried calling. Everybody else is here, come on."

"Uh, I don't think I want to."

Timmy steadied himself. "I thought we-"

"Well, you thought wrong."

Timmy's face went from one of mild confusion to aggravation. "No, I reiterate, you aren't going to do this, not today."

"Mm, oh really, let me check where it's written that you're in charge of me..." Russell mimicked reading his hand. "Oh wait, that's right, _you're not_."

"Russell, this means a lot to a dear friend, in that way it's rather something of an obligation, and-"

Russell was mocking Timmy talking with his hand, now. Timmy began to speak a little more pointedly.

"And we are going to maintain this obligation because we are good friends to the Binghams, we aren't going to let our petty little-"

Russell began to add facial expressions to his mocking.

"Okay, that's enough!"

"Listen, Ali Blah-Blah, I'll decide when it's enough!"

Timmy closed his eyes and breathed deeply to center himself. He wasn't going to fight, not in public. "Okay, Timmy, remember why you're here, remember why you're doing this, he's not a complete and total ass one hundred percent of the time and..." opening his eyes, releasing a breath, "...we're good. Now, Russell, please, I don't know what's gotten into you today, but I am begging you to pull it together for long enough to do this for the Binghams. Smile, take happy little photos, and then you can go about stewing in a corner for the rest of the evening about whatever it is that's suddenly in your craw."

Russell grew pensive again. "I'm not talking about...you know. Us. With them."

Timmy sighed. "Fine. You know that it has to happen eventually, it may even happen without us mentioning it, but fine. Have it your way, just don't ruin this for everybody else."

Russell nodded. "Okay."

Satisfied with this, Timmy turned to walk away, expecting Russell to follow him. Instead he heard a door close, and turned back around to find Russell gone and a door reading "Maintenance Closet".

Timmy stared at the door, blank faced. "Oh, dear. Well, this certainly isn't good."

Timmy heard a click. He rushed to jiggle the handle. Locked. "Russell Dunbar, so help me, if you don't come out of this closet right now, I will-" Stopping himself short, turning his words towards himself, "What will I do, send him to bed without any supper? I suppose I'm his father now, oh, this is just peachy."

Russell's voice floated out softly, "I'm not coming out, you can't make me."

"So that's where we are, are we? Russell, I'll break this door down!"

"I'd like to see your skinny little ass try!"

Under his breath, "Oh is that so, 'I'd like to see your skinny little'- son of a bitch." And with this Timmy rammed the door angrily with his shoulder. And at that, he retreated away from the door and recoiled in pain. He took a moment to let the sting settle before attempting gentle verbal persuasion.

"Russell, I know you're scared, but everything's going to be fine."

"I'm not scared."

"Then why are you hiding in a closet?"

"I'm not hiding."

"Then what do you call this, exactly?"

A very long pause.

"...Russell?"

"Go away."

Timmy leaned against the door, sliding down slowly and collapsing on the floor. "I can wait as long as you can. I'm just as stubborn as you are."

"No, you're not."

"I'm getting there."

And so the game was on.


	9. Coming Out Of The Closet

"Russell? Russell, please?"

It had been thirty minutes. Timmy was growing tired.

"Russell, please come out of the closet."

He'd stopped answering. Timmy's hope was dwindling.

Suddenly a figure made its way past Timmy, and stopped short.

"Hey, Timmy, right?"

"Brenda, hello." He stood quickly, forcing a smile. "Haven't seen you in a good while, how are you managing post-birth?"

"Doing great, actually, everything's falling back into place," she said, gesturing to the places that were falling back in line. "Just came to watch Audrey's little escapade and say hi to everybody, Shea's adorable, isn't she?"

"Cutest baby I've ever seen."

"So what brings you around these parts?"

"Oh, uhm, Mrs. Bingham wanted us in the shoot."

"Who's we? Oh, you and...and Russell?"

Timmy nodded, smile slowly eking down.

"Where is the midget, anyway?"

Timmy removed himself from the closet door and motioned towards it.

Brenda rose an eyebrow. "Say what?"

"He's...uhm...in the closet."

Brenda refrained from laughing, and then realized he was serious. "Oh. Well, what's he doing in there?"

"It's a rather long story." Timmy took a beat, thoughtful. He'd had enough and his voice came out flat and frank. "I'll condense. You see, one day, Mr. Dunbar threw a bagel at me, which I caught. So for several years, I acted as his slave under the guise of an assistant, doing all variety of degrading menial tasks. Gradually as a result of this employ we inexplicably became friends. Recently he made a grand gesture to rescue me despite having put me initially in the line of fire, as it were, which led to us having awkward sexual relations, and now he's locked himself in this closet."

"So basically it's your classic storybook romance."

"One could say so, yes."

"So how long's he been in the closet? The literal one, I mean?"

Timmy sighed. "I've been standing here for about a half hour now. He's stopped talking to me." Timmy shook his head and plastered a smile back on. "So sorry, this really isn't your burden, it's nice seeing you again."

"Let me talk to him."

"Beg pardon?"

"I've been in a few closets in my time, let me talk to him."

* * *

Russell had sat himself down against the back wall of the closet, amongst the mops and brooms. He felt somehow secure amongst the mountain of cleaning supplies where nobody could touch him. He heard the door knob rattle again.

"Give it up, Timmy," he muttered softly to himself.

The door opened and Brenda walked in with a smile. "Hey there." She closed the door behind her and hunted for a light above their head, pulling it on. "And let there be light."

"I locked the door, how'd you get in here?"

"I've been able to hotwire a car since I was 13, pretty sure I can pick a closet lock."

Russell stood up, trying to decide what to do. Attack her? No, she was a woman. But she was a lesbian, did that really count? Could you hit a lesbian?

"Timmy sent me."

Russell scowled. "No, he didn't."

"He says you're being a little pussy."

"Okay, now, I know he didn't say that."

"Okay, you're right, that was me. What are you doing in the closet?"

Russell began looking around him for weapons. Mops and buckets could work in a pinch. Lysol might sting if sprayed directly in the eyes.

"Hey, Goldilocks."

Russell turned his attention back to Brenda.

"Why aren't you out there? Audrey's waiting on you to get this photo shoot started."

"Well, maybe that's a stupid idea anyway."

"It matters to Audrey, and last I knew she was your friend, kind of."

"I'll go out there when I'm ready. I'm just...steadying myself, I have a method."

"Does your method involve hiding like a little chicken from charming, handsome young ethnic men waiting outside closet doors for you?"

"It...does...not, and shut up, lesbotron, what the hell do you care?"

"I don't know, just thinking to myself how nice it would be if I had such a great catch willing to just wait around for so long while my stubborn ass threw a hissy fit for a bunch of cleaning products, but alas, I am alone."

Russell heaved a heavy, annoyed breath. "The sooner you leave, the better."

"Awh, what are you gonna do, sponge me to death?"

"What do you want from me!"

"Talk to me. I've been here. Trust me, I've been exactly where you are right now." Brenda looked around. "Well, not...exactly, but pretty damn close."

Outside the closet, Timmy stood nervously glancing from his watch, to the door, then back again. He heaved a heavy sigh. "This is nuts. She'll never break him."

She had somehow broken him.

"The last few days...Timmy and I...got together."

How had she gotten him to say that? How was she doing this? Sheer power of annoyance? Oh, she was good.

Brenda looked unimpressed, waiting for more. Finally, she shrugged. "Yeah?"

"I mean...like...in a..." his voice trailed off gradually, "sexual...way..."

"Uh-huh, and...?"

Russell made a grand gesture with his hands. "Dude, we...no, you don't get it! This isn't normal, you might go around chomping on the first beaver you see, but I leave the logs in the dam!"

Brenda's eyes went wide. "Whoa! Steady there, fella."

"I'm not gay!"

"No, I'm guessing bi. And given how completely freaked out you are by the prospect, you've had that buried pretty darn deep in there."

Russell groaned and sank back down the wall, head in his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I thought I knew, I don't know. I woke up this morning, and I mean like, I literally just woke up, y'know? Like, what am I _doing_?"

"Are you happy?"

"What?"

"You've got a pretty great boyfriend out there waiting to take cutesie little pictures with you holding cheesy ass props, if that doesn't make you happy, I don't know what would."

"Oh my god, boyfriend. Did you just call him my boyfriend? Is that what we're calling him now, my boyfriend?"

"Isn't that what he is?"

"I don't know. I guess so? Well, he's my husband, if you want to get technical about it."

"Whoa whoa whoa, what did I miss?!"

"You were busy getting your snatch put back together."

For a moment Brenda considered leaving. She really had no good reason to stay, but something compelled her. "Yeah, that's not...exactly what was happening, but out of some sort of morbid curiosity, I repeat, what did I miss while I was busy having things done to my snatch?"

"He was gonna be deported because of something stupid I did, something about a work visa, so I married him to keep him in the country."

Brenda nodded slowly. It was all coming together now. "Hard to hide it after that."

"Hide what?" asked Russell gruffly.

"Come on, you know."

Russell sank down, wrapping his arms around his knees protectively.

"I don't know you all that well, so I'm just gonna come out and call this like I see it. You're a womanizer, right? Bed a lot of women. And then you meet a guy. And there's something about him. You start to like him in a way you don't understand. He threatens your masculinity. And then you get a little giddy. You let it get to your head. You act like a stupid kid, you get a little sexy, and you enjoy it. You're having fun. And then you remember-" A gasp. "Oh, wait! I'm the womanizer! I'm the macho, macho man! On the right track so far?"

Russell glared at Brenda with a slight sneer. "What makes you think you're so smart?"

"So now you're scared. But it's too late. Everybody knows that you've switched teams, and it's getting late in the game and you don't know the rules. You're up to bat and you have to swing and you're going in blind and there's no backing down now. So what are you gonna do?"

"When did it turn into a bad sports analogy?"

"I don't know, just run with this."

"Why are you even in here, what's this got to do with you, anyway?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Nothing. It's got jack squat to do with me and frankly, I don't care that much and I don't really like you, but I meant it when I said you have a pretty great boyfriend. Husband. Whatever, I mean it, he's really a pretty cool guy, and you're a sucker if you'd rather stay in the closet - literally - than be out there right now with him. Listen, Russell, I know you're scared. I remember being scared, and it's not the same, it's never the same for anybody, but all I know is you can't sit in the closet forever when you have people like Timmy standing outside waiting for you."

With that, Brenda left the closet, closing Russell back inside behind her.

She looked to Timmy with a nod and a small smile. "He's all yours, go get him."

Timmy opened the door slowly. Russell looked up at him from his place on the floor, still lost in Brenda's words, trying to digest what had just happened.

"Hello," managed Timmy, closing the door behind him. "May I sit down?"

Russell shrugged. "It's a free floor."

Timmy sat cross legged across from Russell, and for awhile they were both quiet. Timmy spoke first.

"I like what you've done with the place."

Russell maintained his stoic composure. Timmy poked at his leg with a finger. Nothing.

Timmy placed a hand to Russell's chin, moving his face around in examination. Russell objected to this, pushing his hand away.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Trying to see if she somehow exorcised the asshole from you. Can't tell."

Russell pouted a little at this and Timmy smiled.

"Russell, would it...would it help if I confessed something to you?" Curiosity clearly peaked, Timmy continued. "I've missed you. It's been only one day and I feel pathetic, but I kind of did want to hightail it to your place and...uhm, hang out, shall we say."

"By hang out, do you mean..."

"Yes."

"...Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to appear quite as desperate as you've come across."

Russell rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Harsh but fair."

"Seems I needn't have bothered anyway, you weren't missing me quite as much as I was missing you."

Russell groaned. "That's not true."

"Then what's all of this? Making dates, ignoring calls, general jackassery, 'Ali Blah Blah'?"

"Dude, I think I missed you _too_ much for just one day. I freaked out...I think my brain went the opposite direction. I woke up this morning and it all just...it hit me that this last week I came on...did I come on strong? Like, really strong?"

Timmy nodded emphatically. "Yes, you sort of did."

"No wonder you freaked the hell out. I guess it's finally catching up to me."

"It's alright. We're both allowed a certain amount of freaking the hell out in all of this, it's your turn now. Tomorrow it will be my turn again, we'll take shifts. I'll draw up a chart."

"Yeah, get on that."

Timmy gave a smirk. "And uhm...this big date of yours tonight?"

Russell sneered. "Oh, uhm...yeah, that, I...I lied, I wanted to gauge your reaction."

"And how did I react?"

"Yeah, you're gonna have to work on that jealousy streak."

Timmy rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll be sure to work on that. So...what do you say we go face the world?"

Russell was starting to relax. "Just...gimme another minute."

Timmy stood up and walked the short distance to Russell, squeezing in beside him amidst the mess.

"Tight squeeze," said Russell. He winced. "God, everything I say sounds wrong these days."

Timmy reached for Russell's hand, and Russell met Timmy's eyes. He was somehow surprised by this simple gesture of Timmy moving, sitting beside him, holding his hand.

Russell gave a half smile. "Last time I was in a closet with someone like this...high school. Sherry Weinstein. I was 17, she was 15. All we did was make out pretty intense, but we got caught, and oh my god, we got in so much trouble. This was, like, prep school, so this stuff was taken kind of serious, y'know? But my dad had the money and money talks."

"Where were you going with this story?"

"I don't know. I guess just that it started kind of like this."

"I happen to know for a fact that the last time you were in a closet with somebody intimately was last month with the brunette from financing."

Russell rose an eyebrow. "Ohh...oh, yeah...Biannnnnca...Bianca the Bimbo...Bianca the bimbo with the great big-"

Timmy cleared his throat rather loudly.

"No, but that...that was different. I mean with somebody I like. I kind of feel like I'm in high school again, you know, like when you have a stupid crush on somebody and you get those weird butterflies in your stomach, I guess that's how I've felt this whole week. Sneaking into closets, stealing kisses..."

"Oh, is that what we're doing, now?"

"What, stealing kiss-"

Timmy stole the kiss. Upon breaking, Russell laughed nervously.

"What was that for?"

"Confidence," said Timmy.

"I could maybe use a little more...confidence..."

Russell leaned in for more confidence, and Timmy put up a hand. "Later. Permitted you follow me out of here and we do what we've come here to do."

"Using sex as bribery? Timmy, you're already fitting into this wife role perfectly."

"You may have just extended the wait."

"Not a problem, I have my ways." He began to slide a hand up Timmy's leg, which Timmy unflinchingly led back down as he continued with his next thought.

"I did a lot of thinking yesterday. I was doing a lot of freaking out myself. Doubts."

"Yeah..."

For a few moments they looked down, silent, before Timmy spoke again. He knew they needed to get out of here, but he felt compelled to speak.

"Russell, what do we have in common?"

Russell's eyes went wide as he looked back to Timmy. "What?"

"It's just...I was...what do we have in common?"

They stared at one another for a long time. Russell was about to speak when Timmy interjected.

"Don't say sex."

"Damn it." Russell thought a moment longer. "We both like the Bruins."

This didn't seem enough for Timmy.

"Uhh...that...that restaurant on 3rd."

"I hate that place."

"Wait, seriously? You eat like 20 breadsticks every time we go over there!"

"I'm generally there as a lackey when you're out with some woman, you never let me order anything, I'm trying not to starve to death!"

Awkward. More silence.

Russell had it this time. "Musicals."

"...What?"

"Broadway musicals, uhm...Rent, Fiddler, Annie..."

"Well, I suppose I-"

"Yeah, yeah, remember that time on the flight to Miami when we-"

"Oh please, sir, Russell, I'd rather forget about that...you do realize the only reason I sang all of those songs was because you had me miles and miles over a figurative barrel, that was really one of those 'I had no choice' situations..."

"You liked it!"

"Everybody was watching us, I was utterly humiliated, and, hm, oh yes, you threatened to tell everybody aboard I was a terrorist if I refused to sing!"

"...Did I?"

"Yes."

"...Should I have maybe not taken us on this little trip down memory lane?"

"Perhaps not."

Russell flinched, frustrated with himself. He thought he'd nailed it, but he'd only made things worse. He looked down to find Timmy's hand still linked with his. Hope prevailed. He closed his eyes and in a last ditch effort reached deep down inside himself, sucked up every ounce of pride he had left...and began to sing.

 _"The sun'll come out...tomorrow..."_

Timmy looked to Russell slowly.

 _"Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow...there'll be...sun..."_ No response from Timmy. He kept it up hopefully. _"Just thinkin' about tomorrow...clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow...'til there's none..."_ Russell chuckled lightly. "Come on Timmy, I feel a little stupid here...you know the words, help an idiot out..."

Timmy found himself smiling lightly as Russell continued.

 _"When I'm stuck with a day...that's gray...and lonely..."_ Russell mocked a frown.

Timmy rolled his eyes, adding his voice to the song as they sang together.

 _"I just stick out my chin...and grin...and saaaaay...ohhhhh..."_

They sang a little too loudly now. _"The sun'll come out...tomorrow...so you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow...come what maaaay...tomorrow...tomorrow...I love ya...tomorrow...you're only a daaaaay...aaaaaa...waaaaaaaay...!"_

The men finished in almost uproarious laughter, which Russell broke with a deep kiss, hand pressed firmly to the back of Timmy's head. The kiss grew momentarily more serious, and they both found the sense to stop it, allowing their foreheads to rest naturally together.

"Mm." Timmy seemed somehow satisfied now, his concerns subsided in this moment. "You know, when we leave this closet...we'll be literally coming out of the closet. To everyone. This is absurdly ridiculous. You just had to pick a closet, didn't you?"

"It seemed convenient."

Timmy leaned back, meeting Russell's eyes with a smirk. "Shall we go?"

He stood now, extending a hand to Russell, who grimaced, but took it and stood.

Timmy turned to leave but Russell yanked him back.

"What now?"

Russell looked stunned, as if he'd stumbled upon a sudden revelation. "I found the words."

"...What?"

"The words, you asked me why, I said I didn't know, I didn't have a reason. I know now."

"Yes...?"

"Timmy, I've...I've been treating you like crap and you've been hanging around outside that door, anyway. Not just today, not just that door. All the doors, all these years, all the figurative doors on all the figurative closets. God, this is stupid, I suck at analogies or metaphors or whatever this is..."

Timmy's voice went soft. "No, please, continue..."

"Uh, you...you take the time. Nobody else ever took the time. Nobody else ever tracked me down in cabs when I was too drugged to know where the hell I was, nobody ever sang show tunes to me in a crowded airplane to make me feel safe, even if I did threaten to have you water boarded if you didn't... nobody ever tried to make me a better person, forced me to do boring volunteer work or budget or uh or broaden my horizons or whatever...nobody ever stuck around with me for so long and did so much crap with me for seemingly no apparent reason other than maybe they didn't actually hate my guts..."

"Again, sir-Russell-I was your assistant, you do realize you were _paying_ me to be around..."

"Any other assistant would have gotten out of there years ago."

"Did you ever ask any other assistants to do half of what you had me do?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then how do you know? And why me? Why did you ask me to do those things?"

"Timmy, I'm trying to say something here!"

Timmy forced himself to shut up. "I'm sorry."

"Timmy, you...you were there for me. Yeah, at first I had you do whatever stupid crap I could think of because...well, I'm kind of an asshole, it's kind of a hobby. And then it was because I wanted you around. Like I'd found something I didn't know was missing, and it was you, I guess. I...liked you. Just like everybody else, Tim, people are drawn to you, you've got this weird thing where you attract people because you're just an obnoxiously good person, it's annoying but that's it. I came up with every dumb excuse in the book to be with you, you know that, you're not stupid, you're the smartest person I've ever known. And you went along with all of it, and every time you did you made me fall deeper and deeper into this stupid pit I fell into of wanting to be around you. So...that's the reason, you made me feel wanted, like somebody really cared about me, like somebody didn't hate me. Even though you told me you hated me all the time, I mean, I knew you didn't mean it. Because when most people would have walked away and given up, when push came to shove, you kept on following me around and I could never figure out why, all I knew was you weren't giving up on me and that was more than I'd ever gotten from anybody."

Timmy took a deep breath. "So that's it, then?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

A smile slowly formed across Timmy's face. "Thank you, Russell."

And with that, it was time to come out of the closet.


	10. Photographic Evidence

Timmy and Russell entered the studio to find the gang gathered around baby Shea, awake now in Audrey's arms, cooing happily, putting on the adorable baby show.

"You want one of those?" snarked Russell. "You'd make a good little mommy."

"Yes, well, knowing you I'm probably already step-father-"

"Step-mother."

"-to a dozen or so illegitimate children you know nothing about."

Jeff began making his way over to them.

"About time you guys showed up. The photographer's running late, though."

"Seriously, we could have stayed in the closet," said Russell, nudging Timmy without thinking. He met eyes with Jeff, instantly regretting his words, and they exchanged what was perhaps the most awkward, uncomfortable look the two of them had ever shared.

"Russell," Jeff said with a nod.

"Jeff."

Timmy coughed lightly. "I'm going to join the others, excuse me..."

Russell grabbed at Timmy's arm in vain as he disappeared quickly towards the group and Russell muttered a quiet, "Gr, nertz."

Jeff grunted, wanting to walk away, and fumbled with his hands for a moment before deciding to speak. "So...Russell...what the hell happened, man?"

"Jeff, don't go there, okay, just don't."

"I'm just trying to get this straight in my head...I mean, you...not being straight...you're the straightest guy I know, how does something like this happen, all my perceptions of reality are sort of flying out the window on this one."

"Yeah, right there with ya, buddy."

"I mean, the last couple years you started getting a little...hm-hm around the guy, but it was all a big joke, nothing serious. What turned you off of chicks?"

"I'm not turned off of chicks, okay?! Damn it, I love chicks! I can't stop thinking about chicks, I spent all day yesterday looking through every number of every broad I've ever had sex with, with my finger on the dial and my hand down my pants and then for some reason I'm here today with Timmy, I don't freaking know why, Jeff, I'm trying to figure it out, let me figure it the hell out, okay!"

Jeff put up his hands in surrender. "Okay...okay, I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but. Sorry."

"No, it's...it's cool. I've had a really shitty day, man. I'm confused."

Jeff wasn't sure what to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "You know, when I met Audrey, I was dating a lot of different girls."

"Sure thing, hot shot."

"I was, and when I got with Audrey, all of that stopped. It just lost its appeal, ya know? It's not...it's not like I didn't want to. God, you know how many women I see on the street and just wanna ransack?"

"Should you really say things like that with your wife standing like three yards away?"

"Ah, whatever, she'd jump on the mailman if I keeled over tomorrow. Listen, Russell, the point is, I don't really get the whole...uh, switching teams thing, but when you settle on somebody, you kind of just...you settle, ya know? You're a bachelor, I've never known you to be anything else. So if you really turned down a black book full of vag for the little uh, proper gent over there, that doesn't compute in my brain at all but maybe that should tell you something."

Russell groaned. "I don't know. I like the vag, Jeff. I mean I really, really... _really_ like the vag."

"Yeah, I know ya do."

"But see, the problem is..." Russell looked over towards the group. Towards Timmy. His voice grew sincere. "Damn it, Jeff, I...I like him too. I really like him, Jeff." He looked down. "I uh-I maybe even love him." Russell instantly was kicking himself as he looked back to Jeff. "Fuck it, ah, forget I said that, okay?"

"No, it's-it's okay, Russell." Jeff could sense how serious Russell was and grew uncharacteristically sympathetic. They both felt uncomfortably vulnerable now, too pathetically touchy-feely, and were eager to get away from this scene.

"I really love vag," Russell reiterated.

"Yeah, buddy, I know." Jeff hesitantly extended an arm around Russell's shoulder as they went to join the others.

Everybody was busy squealing over Shea.

"Ohhh, she's sucking on her fingers!" squeaked Jen.

"Imagine that," Russell chided flatly as he met the group. "A baby who knows how to eat her own hand, woo, she's a genius!" Timmy elbowed Russell and he grimaced. "I mean awh, look, she's adorable!"

Adam tickled the baby's tummy with a finger. "Yeah, well, I think she's the cutest thing I've ever seen ever, just ever, goochy goochy goo!" He looked to Jen. "Honey, maybe it's time we started thinking about having one of our own?"

"Soon...maybe...we'll see..."

Brenda chimed in. "Don't let it scare you, Jen, the morning sickness, water retention, and not being able to drink for 9 months is totally worth the searing pain of childbirth."

"Wait, what-?"

Before Brenda could console away the horrified look on Jen's face, she had already moved on to Timmy, pulling him aside from the rest of the group and whispering confidentially.

"So is everything cool with your hobbit?"

"Oh, uhm, yes. Thank you, Brenda, I do appreciate it. Whatever you did in there, thank you."

The smile on Timmy's face revealed more to Brenda than his words ever could and she smiled back knowingly. "Ah, it's nothin'. You have strange taste in men, Timmy, but you're a good guy. Take care of yourself, okay? And if he hurts you, I'll set him straight." She paused, reflecting on her choice of words. "Hm. Well, you catch my drift." She patted him on the shoulder and joined the others, eyeballing Russell briefly and catching an uncomfortable look back from him.

Suddenly the door to the studio swung open and all eyes drifted to the new figure entering the room.

"Is that him?" murmured Jeff.

Audrey nodded. "Has to be..."

Russell started slowly snickering, building up to a bigger laugh, which Timmy promptly stopped with a sober, "No."

The man approaching them was thin, tall, with long blonde hair, dressed in a colorful fringed number, heeled boots, and round pink sunglasses. When he spoke, his voice floated out heavily accented:

"Are you ze clients for ze photo shoot, zen?"

Russell and Adam both threatened laughter, to which Timmy and Jen both placed hands over their mouths and smacks to their sides.

Audrey spoke as she handed Shea to Jeff. "Uh, yes, hello. Audrey Bingham." She walked to the man, extending a hand. He recoiled slightly.

"No, sorree, I don't shake ze hands. Air shake." He extended a hand several inches from Audrey's, feigning a shaking motion, which Audrey returned cautiously.

"Uhm...okay, great, so would you like introductions, or...?"

"Well, I am Francois," he said. "And let me assess zis group." He brushed Audrey aside. "Ahhh...we have three couples, a bah-bee, and a lezbian."

He tugged Audrey to the group and began grabbing arms, moving people around into pairs until he ended up with a mish-mosh. He started down the line, coming up first to Jennifer.

"Ze lezbian."

"Uh, I'm not a-"

He placed a finger to Jen's mouth. "Shhh."

Moving next to Russell and Brenda. "Okay, I don't know how to fix zis one. I'm sorry sweetheart, you are fine, but I cannot really do much to fix him. My suggestion is you find a partner who looks a little less like ze aging two-bit '70s pornographic actor who's given up on himself, yes?" Brenda guffawed and before Russell could get a crack in, Francois was on to the next couple.

Audrey and Timmy stood with furrowed brows, both ready to try and rectify this awkwardness before being promptly cut off. "Zis is wonderful! Like from ze art film, no? Ebony and Ivory or uhm, no I suppose like ze Ivory and ze Latte."

Timmy managed to get a word in edgewise. "Alright, I feel as though I should explain something to you before we go any further with this-"

"Oh mah goodness, he looks like ze one thing and sounds like ze other, it's amahzing! He's so exotic, where are you from?!"

"Well, I'm from South Africa, but-"

"Oh my God, ze brain, it hurts, no no, moving on, moving on."

He came finally to Jeff and Adam. "Ahh, ze gay couple."

"Now hold on just a minute," began Jeff.

"Yes, you are ze bear. A mighty fine, big, buff bear."

"I'm what?"

Adam laughed.

"And you have adopted a bah-bee with zis one, your little lover, oh, you're so cute together, what a lovely little family you make!"

Adam wasn't laughing anymore.

"We're not a gay couple!" Jeff said in a near shout.

Francois stood silently for a moment. "...No?"

"No!"

"But...I'm never wrong about zis, I sensed three couples and ze lezbian, I know I am right about zis."

"Ya paired us up all wrong, ya queero!"

"Jeff!" spouted Audrey.

Francois stomped. "Correct yourselves immediately!"

The group sighed and groaned collectively and began 'correcting themselves' until they stood in their proper respective places...aside from Russell and Timmy, who hesitated momentarily in standing aside one another, all eyes on them as they finally took the last inches towards one another, cementing themselves as the gay couple.

Francois looked baffled. "Huh...sooooo...you mean to tell me that ze grizzly bear is with ze Ivory...lezbian is with pretty gay boy...redhead is ze lezbian...and ze exotic melting pot is with ze '70s porn star?"

General nods in the affirmative. Francois tossed up his hands with a huff. "I'm losing my touch, zis world makes no sense to me any longer!"

As Francois steamed away to begin setting up, Russell proclaimed just loud enough for the group to hear: "Holy crap, this guy is fruity."

Jeff turned to Audrey with a smug look. "Called it."

"Now for ze photos!" called out Francois.

The group followed him with more than a hint of hesitation.

"We like ze props and ze costumes, eh? We do something bold, daring?! Something avant-garde! A hanging in a town square, perhaps!"

Audrey objected. "No props or costumes, we were thinking just simple backdrops. You know, nice family style photos?"

Francois turned slowly, dramatically, a sneer plastered on his face.

"Yugh. Boring, boring, boring. But...if you insist."

And so Francois set up several boring backdrops, and the group preceded to take several boring group shots. Brenda stood on the sidelines, behind the camera, much to Francois' chagrin.

"Must you watch mah every move, lezbian?"

"I do have a name, and it isn't 'lezbian'. It's Brenda. And hey, man, do your thing, I'm not gonna say a word. But uh...you might think about getting everybody's heads in frame, just a suggestion."

"You know nothing about art!"

After several photos of this sort, Francois made an announcement. "I would like to take ze couples shots alone."

Audrey nodded in acceptance. "Oh, well, okay, that sounds fine. Shea's getting kind of sleepy anyway, she needs a break."

"Very well, zen! I shall go and retrieve some delightful filters and we shall make with ze kissy kissy pictures of ze happy couples!"

"W-wait," Audrey was less than subtle in looking towards Russell and Timmy. "What do you mean by kissy-kissy?"

Francois made a grand gesture. "Doi, ze kissy kissy face, mwah mwah, don't worry, it will be lovely, I go now, stay here, I go now."

Before she could object further, he had vanished across the studio.

The group had grown intensely quiet. Everybody knew what this meant, but nobody dared say it. Couples kissing meant _all_ the couples kissing; somebody had to say something. The air was thick. Jeff coughed. Adam let out a low groan. Finally Russell sighed and walked forward.

"I have something to say."

Timmy spoke softly, "Russell, you don't have to do this."

"No, I need to." He choked back for a moment, realizing all eyes were on him, but he nodded and continued. "Uhm, a few days ago...all of our lives changed forever. You guys had a baby...you guys finally got married, that only took like a bajillion years...and, uh...and well you saw what else went down in the hospital that night. What you didn't see was that...later that night I told Timmy Patel that I loved him." The room was silent. Timmy took a step closer to Russell. "And uhm...I meant it. So...so there's that. So that's a thing now, and I just...I wanted you all to know. So. So now you know."

"Russell."

He looked back to Timmy, who nodded softly in reassurance. Russell looked back to the group.

"I just...I hope this doesn't change anything."

Adam managed to speak first. "It's okay, man."

"To be fair," offered Jeff, "the two of you have kind of been a thing for awhile now anyway. It was just a matter of time before it turned into...well. This whole thing." He made an odd hand gesture.

"Yeah," said Jen. "You know, Russell, you used to hang out with us all the time, and then when Timmy showed up, that all kind of changed...I think we all could have called this a good...I dunno, three, four years ago."

Everybody nodded and verbalized in agreement.

Russell sneered. "Wait, what, seriously?"

"Yeah," said Adam. "I mean, there were signs ages ago. Remember that time they went on the double date and felt each other up?"

Jen laughed. "Oh yeah, or that time they tried to plan our wedding for us, that was pretty gay."

Jeff nodded. "I started calling it as soon as it started leaking out of the office, I mean, why would this guy hang out with this guy willingly outside of a workplace setting, how does that make any kind of sense?"

Audrey put up a hand. "HEY!" The group turned to her. "Now as true as all this may be..." She addressed Russell and Timmy, quickly forgetting what she was about to say in favor of joining the mob. "I'm sorry, but I tried to hire Timmy off of you when he was only a couple months in and he wouldn't budge, and I am _clearly_ the better boss. The signs were pretty clear."

Russell flipped to look at Timmy. "Wait, when was this?"

"Ohhh, si- Russell, no, this was years ago. I assure you, there was no deeper psychological...at the time I simply hadn't wisened up to the miseries of working for you, and..." He met eyes with Russell, then with Audrey, then back to Russell. "Oh. Oh, dear."

"He wished you a happy monthiversary," added Audrey.

Russell spoke to Timmy in a near whisper now. "You told her I used to do that?"

Timmy whispered back, "I was with her at the time."

"Why were you with her?"

"I was thinking of leaving you."

"You were thinking of _what_?"

"We'd only been together for two months, you were acting like an imbecile at the time, Mrs. Bingham was being kind to me and-"

While the two continued bickering under their breaths, Jeff leaned over to Adam.

"So, are we watching them have a lovers' quarrel? Is that what's happening right now?"

Adam shrugged. "I dunno, I've seen them do this plenty of times, I don't think this is anything new."

"It's different. They're married now. Once you've boned somebody, it's different."

Russell and Timmy had somehow heard this and they abruptly stopped their argument. Timmy put a hand to Russell's shoulder in apology, and Russell spoke up again.

"So before you idiots all assured me of how totally _not_ discrete we've been, before the hell _we_ even knew this was a thing...thanks a ton, by the way...I had something I was trying to say. Now that-"

"And I am back!" Francois came marching up. "Lovely lovely filters for ze kissy faces." He pointed toward Russell and Timmy. "And we start with the two of you, you are fighting about something, it creates ze tension!" He made a fist. "Raw emotions make for ze greatest art."

Timmy put up a hand. "I'm sorry, I don't think we'll be-"

Russell interrupted. "Okay."

Timmy shot him a look. "What?"

"I said okay."

"We don't have to do this. I understand what you're trying to do, but perhaps this is taking it a step too far, I mean really, this isn't what today was supposed to be all about-"

Russell grabbed Timmy firmly by the shoulders and shut him up with a kiss.

Audrey squeaked out a timid, "Oh."

From the corner Brenda chimed in with, "Okay, I can kind of see it now."

Jeff and Adam stared gape-jawed until Jeff finally managed to eke out: "Huh."

Jen had her head cocked to one side, as if trying to interpret a piece of abstract art.

Finally Francois spoke in the flatest, most Midwest American accent any of them had ever heard: "What the heck is wrong with all of you, you've never seen two men kissing before?"

Everyone, including Russell and Timmy, turned to Francois now in shock.

Realizing he'd dropped his act, he stomped a foot. "Oh, well, shit. Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

And so the group watched as Russell and Timmy kissed for ridiculous, cutesy couples photos; they stared in quiet awe, dared not speak, except for Brenda who carried an amused sort of grin over how ridiculously unsure the others were of how to react.

Once Russell and Timmy were on the sidelines and the next couple was up, Brenda approached them.

"I'm heading out. You guys don't make such a bad looking couple. Timmy, remember what I said."

Timmy nodded in recognition.

"And you..." She pointed at Russell. "No more locking yourself in closets. And no more leaving the logs in the dam, huh? Something tells me he's got a pretty nice log." She gave a wink and a click of her tongue as she walked away.

"Wait, what?" queried Timmy.

"Nothing," hissed out Russell. "She's...she's a lesbian, they're all insane."

As the shoot came to a close and the group dispersed, nobody dared say much more about what had occurred. Francois left in an artistic huff. The baby was still sleeping, giving the Binghams a convenient excuse to leave without much to-do; Audrey gave Timmy a warm hug, Jeff gave Russell a manly nod.

Russell was off in his own little world by the time Adam and Jen were leaving. Adam was out the door when Jen turned to address Timmy.

"You guys coming? Me and Adam are going to the diner."

"I think we'll stay behind a moment," said Timmy, looking back towards Russell. He faced Jen with a smile. "Good luck with married life."

"You too," echoed Jen. "I guess we'll catch up later, then? You're coming out of hiding? Been too quiet, we could use some company."

"Surely, see you soon."

They waved goodbye and Timmy made his way back over to Russell, who stood staring mindlessly at walls of props. He muttered something.

"What's that?" asked Timmy.

"Good sex toys. Look, whips, swords, whatever that thing is with the spikes."

Timmy heaved a sigh. Russell carried on casually.

"Can't believe I did that."

"The kiss? Yes, well...a rather abrupt change from not wanting to talk about it."

"Guess it was a little late for that."

"Yes, not much point in prolonging the inevitable. Still, you might have warned me, I was a tad unprepared...you weren't the only one freaking out you know, I just did a better job at hiding it."

"Yeah, sorry," Russell said with a light laugh. He paused thoughtfully. "So...what now, Tim?"

"What do you mean?"

Russell turned to him, his face deep in thought. "What do we do now? Like...where do we go from here? Do we just...go back to working in separate buildings and go home to separate apartments, I mean...how does this work, exactly?"

"I don't frankly know. I suppose that's how it works, yes."

"This is weird, just...we've spent every day together, I mean...always together, and now..."

"Things change. An awful lot has changed."

Russell appeared distraught, prompting Timmy to grab his hand.

"We'll figure it out. Everything will be fine, sir."

Russell laughed lightly. "You ever gonna stop calling me sir?"

"It's etched so deeply into my brain, I'm afraid."

"Not gonna lie, it really does kinda turn me on..."

Timmy found himself developing a smirk. "Oh, does it, sir?"

Russell raised a brow. "Mm. You uh...you wanna get outta here, Tim?"

Timmy shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps I had other plans. Perhaps I was in want of a little 'me time', you know how it goes."

Russell leaned into Timmy's ear with a whisper: "I want you."

Timmy closed his eyes, steadying himself with a breath.

"I want you right now, Timmy."

Timmy's eyes darted open. "Very well, then."

And with this the men turned tail and swiftly exited the studio.

* * *

Timmy awoke in bed in the middle of the night, arm strewn across Russell's bare chest, spent from the evening's events. After leaving the studio they had come straight back to Russell's apartment and laid into one another without much thought or inhibition; being out in the open had somehow released them of whatever barriers remained, at least for those few hours. Timmy carefully studied Russell's sleeping face, now; he was starting to come to, recalling everything they had done before collapsing into sleep; the feel of each other's bodies, the release of years of pent up frustrations that neither of them truly knew they were harboring.

He leaned on an elbow and continued to study Russell as though he was a specimen under a microscope. A week ago, this would have seemed insane. To suggest that he would have been sleeping in Mr. Dunbar's bed, after a night of sexual activity no less, was crazy; to even remotely imply such a concept was just about the most bizarre suggestion imaginable. Yet here he was. And gone were the feelings of disgust and terror at the idea. Confusion remained, but that was something to be dealt with gradually. For now, he was content.

Somehow, sleeping Russell embodied all the best parts of him; he couldn't put on an act when he slept. He appeared soft and vulnerable and Timmy felt an outpouring of caring for him in this moment. He reached a hand down to touch Russell's face, which caused him to stir.

"Timmy...?"

"I'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

Eyes still closed, voice still a sleepy murmur, Russell moaned out softly, "I love you, Timmy."

Timmy smiled. He returned a hand to Russell's face, leaned down, and kissed him softly before nestling gently back down beside him. "I love you too, sir. I love you, too."

* * *

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NOTES: This is the end of part one of an ongoing ROE series I'm working on that is being cross-posted at AO3. x

You can find Part 2 of this series on Archive of Our Own dot org / user Paxella.


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